Welcome to the Jungle Gym

Sitting outside the Mall play area watching my kids interact. It’s not quite as Lord of the Flies-ian as some places, but it does have it’s code.
Rule #1: There’s no crying in the playzone. Any parent who fails to swoop in within 15 seconds of waterworks commencing shall be subject to the silent yet tangible disapproval of the “responsible” parents quicker than you can say felony child abandonment.
Rule #2: Big kids are not to be trusted. They may be highly sought after accredited babysitters, but turn a 12 yr old loose in a jumpy castle and they become Rowdy Roddy Piper in They Live, and they are all out of bubblegum.
Rule #3: Don’t ask why it is sticky, smells funny and/or features play equipment which reminds you of Medieval torture chambers. That will bring the manager’s police tape out and you shall once again face the parental shunning, but this time for being such an overprotective helicopter parent.
Rule #4: The final and most important law of the jungle gym; Never Get Out of the Boat, by which I mean don’t stay in there with your kids. It’s their world, and despite the bullies, skinned knees and unidentifiable substances, they don’t want us in there. At least there’s glass all around the place.