If he can't climb chimneys he can join a circus

Ah the bliss of a warm spring day. I’ve become a little sick of phoning family members to hear what wonderful weather it is back in England, while we in Ottawa have been dealing with a spring that is, to put it mildly, absolute bollocks.
 
So imagine my surprise to find we had the rare confluence of a weekend and warm, sunny weather. Now, of course, weekends have less relevance than before – especially for those of us waiting desperately for editing, translating, writing or voice over work to come in (very reasonable rates, no serious request ever refused), who seem to have gone to the new career of home educator.
 
Ottawacker Jr. decided it was the moment to test Mrs. Ottawacker’s resolve on the mini trampoline. Perfect timing, she caved. And so for the next 15 minutes, he was bouncing up and down in superb rhythm to the Ian Prowse song blaring out tinnily from my laptop,
 
15 minutes is a very long time for the uninitiated. When I looked up next, Ottawacker Jr. was lying down in the middle of the flower bed (well, I say flower bed, but this is Ottawa – it’ll be a flower bed in a couple of months’ time). I got up, rushed to the door and ran outside. “Are you OK? What happened? I didn’t hear you shout out,” I said, covering my ass as best I could. “Did you fall?”
 
“No,” he said. “I just felt tired. So I had a lie down.
 
Kids. Terrifying, Every day.