It Ain't Over 'Til Someone Jumps On Your Head

I hate winter. Like with a passion. And yes… I consider 40 degrees winter. It’s not warm. It’s cold. If a hoodie won’t cut it, I’m out.

My distaste for winter has only increased with the arrival of a kid. It’s a cold Saturday… what exactly are we going to do all day?

This weekend we decided on an indoor play place with inflatables… us and a thousand other Atlanta-area families. May not make for the best jumping conditions for a 2-year old, but did serve well in the “people watching” department.

First, Ella seemed overwhelmed by the giant castles, masses of children, and the incessant birthday party announcements over the intercom. Her first reaction in new, chaotic situations tends to be to take a step back and observe. 

On this occasion, I found myself thinking, “Why are we all sitting on a bench eating hummus? We could’ve done this at home…”

But alas, she eventually warmed up to the environment and was ready to tackle the big slides. Of course, inflatable slides come with inflatable steps to climb them… no easy feat. She carefully and deliberately climbed her way up, alternately holding up an entire line of children or being trampled by the less patient. 

Eventually, she was gleefully sliding and laughing happily after jumping and jumping until she fell down. It was all fun and games… until it wasn’t.

Billy noticed first that she was in the center of a giant ring, face down and sobbing. He sprung into action, sprinting towards the bounce castle entrance. Ever practical, I found myself merely thinking, “Oh no. He didn’t take off his shoes! I hope he’s not planning to go inside!”

Since I was looking at his feet, I saw the next scene unfold completely before my shocked eyes. A mom came from out of nowhere at warp speed and dove into the child’s sized entrance next to my husband. She was hollering furiously and scrambling wildly to basically beat Billy inside the castle.

I could tell by his legs that he was being pushed and prodded as she was essentially climbing up his body to gain quicker access. I was simultaneously laughing hysterically and thinking “At what point do I get involved?” Four legs – two belonging to my husband and two to this stranger – were now sticking out of the inflatable. 

I peaked at Ella and could see she was being dragged out by her feet, so I figured Billy still had the situation under control. When they emerged, his first question to me was an incredulous, “Where did that lady come from?”

Words could not come since I was laughing so hard (oh, and simultaneously soothing my sobbing toddler). My thought was more “What on earth was she doing?” Billy gave me the scoop that this woman’s son was actually the perpetrator jumping on Ella’s head. 

Ah! Well, that puts a few things in context. Namely, why she was clobbering my husband and where her child learned to jump on people’s heads.

Bounce houses just seem like fertile soil for injuries, funny stories, and whiplash. Any tales of your own?

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