Pizza Pit Party

To reward the primary children for a job well done on their sacrament program, our chorister hosted a party at a local gym that his family is very involved in. His wife coaches there and his kids are like gymnastic all stars (as in they get college scholarships because of their gymnastic skills). Anyway, Rachel has been talking about it for weeks now—they had to book the party when no other parties were going on so it was kind of spur of the moment this weekend—and dubbed it the "pizza pit party" because she was told there would be pits she could jump into.

When we got there she was terrified of everything. But by the time we left she was off running around by herself, jumping into pits, swinging on ropes, and so forth.

Miriam came, too, even though she's not in primary yet. She adores the chorister though because he goes into nursery to do singing time, too. She followed him around for most of the afternoon. They're buddies.

Both the girls were too nervous to go on the trampolines at first so he took them both on and then slowly got them used to it. For some reason my kids always panic when I try to get them to do anything (like swim or jump on a trampoline) and are so relaxed with other people. I guess that's why we have things like swim lessons and gymnastics classes.

It was a blast—we spent two hours running around the gym and, remarkably, there were no serious accidents, though there were many close calls. At one point an older boy did a flip off a trampoline into the foam pit at the same time that another boy leaped over the vault into the foam pit. They missed colliding with each other (in midair) by about an inch. Everyone watching gasped—if they had hit it would have been bad, bad news but instead they just sailed over and under one another like they had choreographed it or something.

"So that's why we had to sign the waiver," one parent remarked.