Another Sign of Old Agedom

Saturday evening I found myself at a birthday party for a little girl I'll call Ribia. I use this name in honor of Ribia's cousin, who can not yet pronounce her true name and has come up with her own adaptation. Ribia was turning three, and as we all know, being three is synonymous with curiosity, unyeilding excitement and energy that puts the Enegizer Bunny to shame. The birthday party palace, Jumpin'Jelly-something, was a warehouse filled with a huge adult-size blow-up jumping, climbing and sliding playground. With children bouncing and giggling everywhere, it was easy to forget that at my age, my tendons and ligaments are pretty secure and comfy where they are and they don't take too kindly to be stretched, yanked and pulled in all directions. As a matter of fact, the body gets quite cranky when forced out of its regular routine. So as much as I enjoyed being able to climb that 6-foot rockwall and throw myself down the slide on the other side, I am not enjoying walking around with an ice pack and being unable to move without pain today. Ah, the joys of getting old...