Wax paper - it's not just for fingerpainting

We have a miniature trampoline. I can't remember where it came from, but I can clearly remember every place I've tried to store it where it wouldn't be in the way. The girls saw it tucked in my closet yesterday, and begged to play on it. "We wanna jump! We wanna jump!"

I pulled it out and set it in the living room for them, and they jumped. They jumped until the tops of their brains must have been bruised from bouncing against the inside of their skulls. Of course, my creative children made up a new game. One of them would crawl underneath the ankle-breaker, then the other would jump off the couch onto it, essentially crushing the one underneath.

They cry when the wind blows too hard, but there was nary a tear shed during this game. How does that make sense?

I left them under the watchful eye of my husband to go put away laundry. From the next room, I heard Molly's singsong voice. "Daddy, look, I made a slide." I peeked around the door to see the trampoline precariously balanced against the side of the couch, and the kids crawling up the arm of the couch and sliding down the deeply angled trampoline. I gave a warning (to my husband), and went back to what I was doing.

I'm a fairly intelligent person. I've developed a lot of life experience over the years, especially where kids and injuries are concerned. When I say something bad is going to happen, well... it usually does. Still, no one listens.

Fully expecting to find the kids quietly watching TV, I walked back in the room. Not only were they not watching TV, they were now using pieces of wax paper to slide down the incline at a greater rate of speed. I stopped in my tracks, stunned. My husband shrank back a little and pretended not to see me, while encouraging them to go down together.

The trampoline wobbled as they climbed on, carefully arranging their speed paper under their little tushes. I was frozen in place, screaming in my head, "Nooooooooooo!!!" It was like slow motion, watching them start their descent. The trampoline wobbled, then tipped up. As they reached the bottom, it stood straight on end, hovering there precariously for just a second before it flipped over right on top of them.

They giggled while I checked for injuries. As soon as I was done, they squealed to do it again.

I give up.