One Chance Is All You Get

Catie will be five on Monday, and we are having her birthday party one day early, on Sunday. My DH has rented a Bounce House, and Catie has become obsessed with physical stunts. Of course, the only stunts that she knows about are aerobatic feats performed by people who jump from planes. She assures me that she can ‘get enough air’ to perform a stunt or two for us at her birthday party. Yeah, right. If you believe that, I’m psychic. I see another ER visit in the near future.
Catie knows that jumping out of a plane requires a parachute. This morning, we had this conversation:

C: What would happen if I didn’t have a parachute?

Me: You’ve never owned one. Somehow, you’ve survived.

C: I mean if I jumped out of an airplane!

Me: Why would you jump out of a perfectly good airplane?

C: To do a cool stunt!

Me: Being alive to explain why you jumped out of an airplane without a parachute would be a stunt that would defy all odds, I can tell you.

C: Would I bounce when I hit the ground?

Me: Maybe, but not a ‘fun’ kind of bounce. An ‘OUCH’ kind of bounce.

C: Would I die?

Me: Yep. More than likely, you would.

C: I think I won’t be doing any stunts for my birthday, ‘kay?

Me: Okay, sweetie. But I’m not taking 9-1-1 off the speed dial.

Yeah, my daughters are all Adrenaline Junkies to different degrees. I know that as they age, they will grow in wisdom that results in bravery, not stupidity.


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