Fear

There are two announcements that strike fear into the hearts of the male species:

1. "I'm sorry, but the catheter seems to have left permanent damage."

2. "Looks like my number came up in the draft lottery."

I would like to add a third to this list...

"Today at Monkey Joe's, there will be two groups here from 12:30-3:00."

In case you don't know or never cared, Monkey Joe's is one of those places where you pay five bucks per kid to bounce around in gigantic inflated bouncy things. This environment is incredibly loud due to the music playing and the hypnotic murmur of the inflation pumps that act like reverse vacuum cleaners. 

Today The Watson triad went to Monkey Joe's and we got there, you guessed it, right after 12:30! Having been lucky enough to monitor tons and tons of lunch duties at school over the years, I was overjoyed to see this sign on the front door. 

Why would one disdain the summer camp group attending such an awesome, bouncerific place? Allow me to educate you on the DNA of the summer camp group:

• Tons of kids who are hyped up on sugar from the snacks they have been chomping for the whole morning. 
• A "supervisor" to child ratio of 10,000,000,000,000,000 to one (on a good day).
• The "supervisors" are really teenagers or tweeners who need supervising themselves.
• There are always two to 30 kids in the group that are on steroids and therefore 16 times the size of their peers. This can get dicey when one's miniscule children are bouncing. Neck brace anyone?
• An ambient decibel level that would make the takeoff of an F-16 seem like a whisper. 

Now, what's the silver lining to this cyclonic cloud? Having your sister-in-law be there too with your nephew. Thanks, Carrie, for keeping me sane this afternoon.