The Double Bounce.

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The yellow arrows on this photo show where two children ended up on Sunday afternoon after a vigorous game of “Double Bouncing”. Jack ended up in the giant Bunyan Pine while Zoe faired a little worse, with her being catapulted clear over the side of the “safety net” and landing chest first on the ground. She was winded and bruised and unable to play her soccer game later that day. She had to stand in goals.

I, of course, had no idea that any of this was going on because I was heavily invested in a Keeping Up with the Kardashian drama unfolding before my very eyes on the telly. It was the episode where Kim married Kris Humphries and she even did a voiceover at the start of the episode saying that they had already divorced.

Back back to the trampoline. Just this morning I read an article about how trampoline injuries are on the rise. I could relate to it, as it had recently happened in our own backyard. They say that these menacing super fun bouncy mats are responsible for 11,000 hospital admissions every year. But if you take into account that trampoline sales are booming, is it any wonder more and more kids are maiming themselves?

*sits up straight, cracks knuckles, stretches hands into the sky, takes a sip of coffee*

BACK IN MY DAY if you had a trampoline in your backyard, you were a magnet for all the latchkey kids in the neighbourhood, and there were many of us. Even if your trampoline had come from the dump on the back of some dads ute who had to take a load of asbestos to the tip before spying it amongst dead tires and the like, you still had a trampoline. Even if that trampoline had missing, mis-coiled rusty springs which you would get your hair, or leg caught in, causing catastrophic injuries, YOU HAD A BLOODY TRAMPOLINE!

Even if the actual jumping mat was nothing more than a few threadbare wisps of fabric that was a nod to something from the past that resembled an actual working mechanism, you had a trampoline and you were lucky. There were no safety features, maybe just a target cross in the middle to try to inform you that that would be the optimum place to actually jump.

Sometimes I get on that trampoline up there. It is mainly after I have had a few wines with friends and we all think that it is a great idea to have a bounce. Later, as I hose the piss from it, I realise that my bouncing days are behind me. But MAN, they were good while they lasted.

So bounce away, children of my neighbourhood. But you have been warned. The double bounce is now a dirty word at my house.

Ever had an accident on a tram-bam-poline?

Did you have to call a Wah-mublance?

Are kids too soft these days?