Trampoline

Last Sunday, we visited beautiful Dixon Illinois for some good old-fashioned cousin chasin!  I would like you to read that last sentence in your best Georgia accent. 

Why?

My brother in law brings a much needed southern beer drinking charm to every gathering.  Proudly comparing himself to Cousin Eddie from the movie “Vacation.”  It’s refreshing, given our increasing association with the fancy pants liberal Evanston set.

The centerpiece to the day was a newly acquired trampoline, donated by their neighbor.  Who no longer wanted the eventual lawsuit that accompanies every trampoline.  What makes this particular trampoline impressive was not its mere existence, but the fact that it literally in top of the Rock River.

The Rock River usually rushes a few hundred feet away from their property.  But Illinois got walloped by a basement dampening storm last week.  It relocated the Rock River to their yard.  Including the area directly underneath their trampoline.

Of course, Elijah and Luca followed their cousins to the river tramp.  And had the time of their lives leaping and falling and flailing just above these raging rapids.

Editor’s note.  The water underneath was completely still and, at best, six inches deep.  But in my mind was a class 4 white water monster capable of sweeping them to Mississippi in three minutes.

I spent the entire visit swallowing warnings to the children.  I bit my fist every time Luca fell head first towards the edge. 

Occasionally, I could take it no longer and would walk down to the trampoline and try to suggest other, less dangerous activities.  Who wants to sit quietly inside?  Ooh.  I bet there’s an Uno deck around here.

Finally, I relaxed enough to enjoy the bouncing through their eyes.  At one point I grabbed Luca and tossed him back into the trampoline in fatherly glee.

But he landed funny on his face and cried.  At which point we went home.  So I won, I guess.