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Monday, 5 May 2014


Our granddaughter, Sylvie, loves to jump on a bed. Like any child, she loves that bounce you get from the mattress, as you make your way over the surface, getting ever closer to the edge and the danger unseen by a child. Her little sister isn't big enough yet to partake in the ritual jump and bounce, so Sylvie has any mattress to herself these days.

That's not the only danger of the ritual jumping however. When Frank and I were young, we loved to jump on our twin beds, often individually but sometimes, the two of us jumped on the same bed. This was particularly hazardous we discovered one day because as I came down, he was going up next to me. The back of Frank's head and my nose collided with great force. Blood gushed out of my nose for a long time. Eventually, after various attempts to stop the bleeding, Mom and Dad took me to the hospital. There they packed my nose and eventually it stopped bleeding. However, jumping on the bed lost its appeal after that experience.

Today Sylvie knows the children's nursery rhyme No More Monkeys Jumping On The Bed. Except in our case "one got a bloody nose and had to go to the hospital" doesn't quite have the same ring to it.

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