Raising kids involves passing through a number of phases, from not walking to walking, to diapers to no diapers, and from can’t hurt themselves too bad to being constantly on the edge of breaking their neck. Well, today, we tried to curb that last phase a bit: we no longer own a trampoline.

Most parents know about trampolines. Those cursed things that take up way too much space in the backyard. The thing the kids swore they would use every day if we got it (right). The magnet for injuries and sibling squabbles. Oh, trampoline, you are the source of so much joy and so much pain.

I took apart our trampoline today, a second-hand piece (POS, really) that we got for a few pounds when we moved into our house. For some reason, it was really hard to disassemble. Every bit of it seemed to have rusted so much that the rust was like welding. I think it knew that it was probably not going to get put together again.

In the end, though, resistance was futile. I am a firm believer that it’s impossible not to have fun on a trampoline, but just like owning a boat, it’s better to have a friend with one than to have one yourself.

RIP trampoline. It was good while it lasted.