Play Play Play

All work and no play makes Busy-Dad-E a dull Dad-E.

Entropy exists, and on Sunday we let disorder take its natural course, and opted for some fun over work.

After church and lunch, we put the dishes into soak, left the house in mild disarray, took a Valium (except Mom-E who took placebo due to pregnancy) due to the anxiety of leaving the house in disarray, and we went out for a family date.

Having just been to a “jumping party” the day before, and being slightly perseverative toddlers/preschoolers, the boys requested more indoor jumping.

And so we jumped (again except for Mom-E who had fun supervising while just looking radiant with her pregnant belly. What can I say, she’s hot. Although Bab-E did his share of jumping inside her).

And we jumped, and we jumped. (To the tune of Queen’s “Another One Bites the Dust”):

Jump, jump, jump. Three boys love to jump. Jump, jump, jump. Three boys love to jump. They go jump, jump, jump. Jump, jump, jump. Three boys love to jump. Hey! I’m gonna jump with you. Three boys love to jump.

(This is the song we sing when I help the boys jump on the bed. Yes, from time to time I help them jump on the bed—it’s the only time they’re allowed to do so.)

The jumping place had inflatable slides, and we slid down them over and over.

Not wanting to be outdone by Big Brother, Little Brother was game for all the slides, too.

And by “game”, I mean that Dad-E carried him up to the top, and then he rode on my lap on the way down.

Let me tell you, it was like power squats for my arms carrying him up there (over and over again). I often had to use the safety ropes to keep us from falling over backwards pull us up.

It was also like power squats for my motion sickness. (Slides, coasters and graphically-intense
video games never bothered me as a kid, but they sure make me queasy now.)

At one point I asked Mom-E if it was hot inside the jumping place. The fact that she was shivering in a sweater told me it was just me. Apparently, I’d worked up a giant pool of sweat carrying Little Brother around.

And when Little Brother was kind enough to give me a reprieve from carrying him, Big Brother was ready for me to race him down the slides.

Forget running or spinning or Tae Bo or cross-training for that matter. Just go take your kids jumping and “ride” with them—you’ll get a killer workout.

Oh yeah, and don’t forget to rehydrate afterwards with a nice, cold Icee. Nothing better for kids who are already wound-up to who-tied-the-pup then to top off their tanks with liquid sugar.

The initial hyperactivity is a little rough, but the “crash” when their blood sugar plummets ensures some quality nap time.

Seriously, Mom-E and I were able to enjoy some time just watching the boys play and jump. And fall over each other, and laugh, and do it over and again ad nauseum.

I haven’t felt that content in a while, just watching them play.

Oh how I wish I good extract and bottle the energy of those boys. I may be training for a half-marathon, but they can still run circles around me.

See you on Fatherhood Friday now that I’m feeling more balanced,
Busy-Dad-E