Risk.

Life is risky. 

This is a risk. I couldn't have done this a few years ago; Amana's brain condition meant that tipping her up caused her pain. 

It doesnt hurt now, but an unbalanced bounce could still cause damage to an unprotected bit of brain stem which happens to be in the wrong place. 

It's something we shouldn't do. And yet we did. Why? Because Amana has never been allowed to bounce on bouncy castles. Or trampolines. Or ride a horse. Or do anything which might bump that bit of her head. 

And it hurts. Not the doing, the banning. It hurts that she doesn't even ask any more, just looks at all the other children having fun then slips away quietly. It hurts that whilst her personal circumstances qualify her for an amazingly wonderful once in a life time wish trip, the complexities of her disabilities mean the medical staff can't agree to take her. 

And so, I rebalanced the risk assessment. Yes, there is a risk that we might do catastrophic damage to her brain stem (and believe me, brain stem injury really really isn't something you want). But alongside that, there's the risk to her emotional wellbeing, the risk to her development, the risk to her quality of life, which has her sitting in the corner longing to join in, but giving up on even asking any more because it hurts to be told no. 

It was a very quiet bouncy castle. Alongside her, two friends taking similar but different risks. Three parents weighing up the theoretical a, and choosing this moment over possible futures, choosing this joy over potential future pain. 

This was a risk worth taking. 

Others aren't. 

And, for one example of a risk not worth taking, don't  test bath water temperature with your hands, whilst wearing gloves. Use a thermometer. Or dip your elbow. Double check. For the sake of a bit of training, a £5 bit of kit, or possibly a bit more of a delay in setting up a new house, my daughter lost her life. 

Some risks aren't worth taking. 

9 years.