At our Mother Day’s celebration this year I spent most of the afternoon jumping (and peeing) on the trampoline with my niece.

I absolutely adore my niece and would never subject her to the trampoline torture from my youth, like I did my brothers. The minute my mother left me in charge we raced for the trampoline. We did all the things parents warn their children not to do: we jumped from the roof of the house onto the trampoline and even jumped out three story windows onto the trampoline. Pretty much we did everything that should have ended up with a trip to the emergency room. Luckily that never happened. Broken arms and legs would have been difficult to explain to my mother. You can’t hide broken limbs like you can throw-up.

That's right. Throw-up.

I found early on the best way to torture my brothers on the trampoline… I talked them into letting me roll them up in foam pads used for camping. I tied up the foam pads so they couldn't escape and then bounced them around on the trampoline until they puked.

What?

It could have been worse. It could have been broken bones AND puke. Now that I think about it I'm amazed my brother let me anywhere near a trampoline and his child. Maybe all that bouncing around caused memory loss and brain damage.