Get off the lawn

When we moved into our new home, we inherited – among a sea of weird design choices and awful fluorescent lighting – a genuine Rainbow playset and a slightly weathered trampoline.

Simply put, the previous owners didn’t want to move either item. In regards to the playset, I don’t blame them. But this trampoline – who knows why it wasn’t moved.

I suspect because once you’ve got it up, it’s impossible to get rid of.

I never wanted a trampoline. Being a grumpy curmudgeon of a father, I assume trampolines are only good for raising your insurance rates and causing broken bones. Still, we gladly accepted the trampoline because we figured we’d sell it on a rummage sale and make a profit.

(A profit could be made because, as is customary, any non-crucial home items involved in the sale of a house are grouped together and sold for $1. Therefore, our trampoline was purchased for a fraction of that $1 – probably about $0.15.)

So it sat. And it sat. And no one really paid it much attention. Weeks went by before Sierra even realized its existence. A few more weeks, and we finally – for whatever reason – let Sierra hop on the trampoline.

Now, she loves it. ADORES IT. Wants to jump on it all the time. Has discovered the beauty of forced suspension – of being lifted off the ground at a level impossible without the aid of a springy tarp – and wants only to “GUMP GUMP BOOING BOOING.” Preferably while I sing the ABCs.

Thing is, this trampoline has been promised to someone else. We’ve already sold it, and we just need to get it off of the damned lawn, where it sits and ruins the yard like the constant trample of neighborhood children.

I hate the thing. Always have. Always wanted it gone; wanted that spot in the yard to be free and open, preparing for a garden or a fire pit or something, anything for the love of God that wasn’t a trampoline.

Yet, here we are. We still have the trampoline. And we’re moving farther away from the perfect moment to get rid of it. Because as Sierra’s devotion toward keeping it grows, my devotion to her happiness makes it harder to take away.