This morning, on my way out of the house, I remembered to grab the cord that transfers pictures to my computer, so we are now full of pictures and ready to go. The events of the next few posts occurred in June and July, but the pictures were good (or striking, anyway) and so I wanted to share them with you, my reading public.
Anyway, the story of Margaret and the trampoline.
I have long thought that the way to parent Margaret in certain moods would be to find a padded room and fling her in it. My brother and sister-in-law, perhaps because they have seven children, have the next best thing to a padded room -- a trampoline with a net around it.
Now I know there are all kinds of safety concerns with trampolines, but there are also a lot of safety concerns with an energetic and undirected Margaret, so I chose the trampoline as the lesser of two evils.
She liked it very, very much, which leads me to believe that I was right to throw her in there. Every time we went back to her aunt and uncle's house, she asked to jump. So we let her.
Unfortunately, she has a cousin who also likes to jump. And, gravity and what-have-you being what it is, she and he collided. The top of his head was fine, but Margaret got a little bit mauled.
This did not stop her from wanting to get back on that trampoline, though.
And she has suffered no lasting ill-effects because of her injuries.