This weekend I took Michael to a birthday party for the son of a dear friend. The party was at a place that has a bunch of bounce houses, so I knew that Michael would have Big Fun.
And he did. I tried to get a good picture of him having Big Fun, but all the pictures look like this…
All I captured was a boyish blur having Big Fun.
I’d seen some of the other parents in the bounce houses with the kids, but my plan had been to stay on the sidelines and encourage Michael in his Big Fun while keeping a watchful eye on him. Some of the bounce houses were for kids 3 and under, so I felt confident in letting him play in those on his own. But, inevitably, Michael ran into a bounce house meant for older kids and disappeared from sight.
Suddenly, the only way to keep a watchful eye on my boy was to leave the sidelines and join in the Big Fun.
I’m not gonna lie…I had to pray my way through that first bounce house, desperate prayers that I would have the physical ability to climb up and slide down and climb again while keeping eyes on my boy and assuring my mother’s heart that he was ok.
I just about had a heart attack trying to keep up with my 3-year-old, so I had to stop and rest a lot. But I kept pushing myself because, unexpectedly, my son LOVED having his mommy join in on the Big Fun. He’s never looked at me with more adoration.
He won’t be this small forever.
For as long as I can, I want to be the mommy in the bounce house.