This could have been me if not for my steely resolve over the years to reject all requests from my children to buy them a trampoline, the most recent of which occurred just last weekend.
The pictured used trampoline can be yours for $350.
The dad’s Craigslist ad is priceless:
They begged. Pleaded. Told me how they'd use it EVERY day. How our house would become THE place to hang out. We had a hot tub. And a basketball court. And a fire pit. And a hammock. But if we had THIS, well, we'd be rock stars. Plus since I "messed up their lives" by moving them here in middle school, I owed them at least this much. God, dad.
So I caved. And I bought it. And I built it. And that first night they jumped. Then I watched from my window as the summer turned to fall and the fall turned to winter and the flurries came down and the snowmen went up and the rain came down and the flowers came up and spring turned to summer and I watched even still from the window, waiting, just waiting, for someone, anyone, to use that damn trampoline even once more. Oh please, please, just once.
My kids suck.
So after two years of sitting in my window staring out like a creepy old neighbor, I am selling it to make room for gardenias or tomato plants or a stockade jail to house three grumpy teenagers.
Haven't decided yet.
I’m voting for the stockade.