I giggled with a sheer, childish delight as I bounced up and down on the new trampoline, watching as the tree overlooking my backyard got closer… and farther… and closer… and farther…
‘Dad!’ my youngest son’s voice whined from nearby. ‘You’ve been hogging the trampoline for ages!’
Oh, I remembered. Right. The kids.
‘It’s Daddy’s turn,’ I told him, twisting in mid-air to look down at my children. His sister glared up at me, still young enough that the angry expression was more cute than harmful.
‘You said we could have a go today,’ she pouted up at me.
‘You can!’ I laughed, flopping onto my back and then onto my feet again. ‘Just as soon as I’m done with my turn!’
‘I’m telling Mum!’ My son stamped his foot, running back into the house. I sighed and slowed my momentum, letting my knees absorb the rippling shock of the trampoline mat.
‘Lucy,’ I said, beckoning for my daughter to move closer to the trampoline so I could talk to her quietly through the netting. She took a couple of begrudging steps forward. ‘Lucy, do you know why I love this trampoline so much?’
She shook her head.
‘Do you know how many backyard trampolines I had when I was your age?’
She shook her head again.
‘None!’ I said, throwing my hands up to emphasise the point. ‘Zero! This is my first ever one!’
‘Really?’ she asked, wide-eyed curiosity getting the better of her. ‘But didn’t your parents ever get you one?’
‘No,’ I said sadly, shaking my head. ‘They didn’t. Didn’t think I needed one.’
‘Maybe they didn’t know you wanted one,’ she said, innocence radiating from her tiny frown.
‘I always asked for one,’ I told her. ‘Every Christmas!’
‘Maybe they didn’t know where to buy sports equipment in Australia,’ she said.
It was my turn to frown. ‘Why are you making excuses for them?’
‘I was just—’
‘Guess what?’ I said, getting back to my feet. ‘It’s still Daddy’s turn.’
‘No!’ came the mournful cry from my daughter.