Way, way back when Sam was a year old, we lived in Fairbanks, Alaska. And in the winter in Fairbanks, Alaska, there is not a whole lot of opportunity to let your kid run off some steam outside. So I bought him an inflatable ball pit and stocked it with balls so that he could jump around and play and be crazy in it.
It came with us when we moved to Maryland. Eventually it popped and we moved on to a Jumpolene and left the balls in it. Then it popped. So we got a new Jumpolene, and so forth...
Here is an example of one of our many Jumpolenes. See how the top chamber has deflated?
When I bought our most recent one, I decided that it was the last one. My kids and all their friends loved the ball pit, but they were such enthusiastic players that they kept breaking them. And it was all kinds of hard to find where the holes in the plastic were.
Plus I was tired of picking up 500 balls every week.
A couple of weeks ago, the ball pit breathed its last breath.
And Alex bagged up all the balls. (Thank you, Alex.) He might have sworn at me when I asked him to count the balls, but when he was done, he walked out of the basement and said "419."
Then we found three more later.
I am passing them all on to a friend from my moms' club.
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