The Child in Me

I have already confessed to embracing my inner twen more than the average person my age. In addition to that I am also really, really childish. You might want to call it immature, but let's stick to childish, k?

Case in point - an invitation to Amica's lovely weekend/summer house last Saturday, together with the Mademoiselle. I had been looking forward to try out their new pool (a dream!) complete with counter current system and had almost forgotten that they had a big trampoline in the garden as well. Show me a body of water warmer than 15° and I have to go in and splash about/swim. Show me a trampoline and I go crazy. Like, seriously. I love trampolines and ever since I was shown an "Oaschler" ("Arsch/Oasch"=bum) by a kid when jumping on one with M.C. several years ago, this has become my "signature jump" so to speak. I was happy to be able to teach it to one of Amica's twins and we practiced doing it in parallel for the greater part of the afternoon. I am sure he did not have sore muscles for 2 days afterwards, but I certainly did! My back felt as if somebody had beat it with a baseball bat...a rude awakening to the fact that I am 42 and not 12 after all. Oh, well. The biggest reward, however, was when Amica called me on Monday to tell me I had climbed up several notches in her kids' appreciation by doing all kinds of sporty activities in water and on land with them and they told guests on Sunday that I was super cool and despite being "actually a friend of Mum, she is our friend too." A lovely compliment if ever there was one! Now I only need to work on impressing men beyond primary school age to the same degree...