We shall always remember January 2018 as the time I finally conquered my deadly phobia. Of ball pits.
It’s funny, the things that suddenly don’t matter when your child needs you. Mothers throughout history have suddenly gained the power to lift fallen trees off their offspring, when it is required. Fathers have worked 100-hour weeks to keep their families going. That sort of thing.
Play centres were different back when I was young, you know. They were very new, people didn’t really know much about them, and the safety regulations so stringently followed in every single kids party venue for hire in Brisbane. People say it’s a cotton-wool culture, but I’ve never really had a problem with it. Better cotton wool coating everything than your child falling from a great height, or almost getting lost forever in a pit of balls.
Which, of course, happened to me. The very first indoor play centre ever established in Brisbane, and my parents were the forward thinking sort, so they took me along with all the other hippy children. I dived right into the ball pit, which was about twenty feet deep and filled to the brim…and there I was for the next two hours, while my parents debated the various downsides of war and free love with all the other parents. They may have also been overly honest about…things. Anyway, ever since then, phobia to the extreme.
But when my son began to panic during HIS first foray into the ball pit, it was time for me to spring into action. I jumped from my seat, all fears forgotten.
He was fine by the time I got there, but flesh was willing, and the spirit was also willing. Also, it was only about two feet deep. Apparently, across all indoor play centres operating in Brisbane, that’s pretty standard.
So that’s good. Things are better and all.
-Morgan