In which I hate my parents a little less

When I was a child, there were two things I wanted most in the world. The first was the pink Barbie Jeep, which you could actually ride around in,  and the second was a trampoline. I never got either.

But yesterday, years of hatred and resentment towards my unfit parents abated somewhat. The people next door have got a trampoline.

I was getting ready to go to my lovely friend’s birthday party, and wandering round in my room absent-mindedly when I looked out the window. My neighbours (aged 7 years and 9 years) were bouncing up and down on a trampoline.

‘When did you get that?’ I yelled at them in excitement. ‘Today!’ They replied. ‘Can I come and play?’ I asked quickly. ‘Yes,’ The 7 year old said promptly. ‘Come now.’ I had left my room and was looking for my front door keys before I remembered myself. I slowly returned to my bedroom. ‘I have a party now, with my grown-up friends,’ I yelled out of my window. ‘But can I come and play tomorrow?’

I’m still on the lookout for that pink Barbie jeep.

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