We had jumped a million times and not had a problem. My sister and I decided to create a new game. We gathered all the pillows we could find from around the house (big and small) and stacked them up into one big pile by the bedroom door. Then we discussed the rules. We debated for a while before we finally came to an agreement.
           

“If you make the bed in one jump you get all my candy. But miss it and no candy.” I said. Like most kids, my sister loved candy and excitedly accepted the challenge. She got up on the pile of pillows and prepared like an Olympic swimmer. She took the jump and landed on the bed. She popped up and turned toward me with an excited look on her face like she had won a gold medal.
           

“Yes! I get candy!” she said. Now it was my turn. I stacked the pillows up into a big pile again and noticed how far I had to jump. It didn’t seem like a far distance until I was actually standing on the pile. For a second, I was scared. I imagined that I was standing on one side of the Grand Canyon. I finally jumped and success. I had made it to the bed. We continued to jump for a long time before we decided to end with one last jump. If I missed this, I would have lost the candy. I jumped and suddenly I felt a throbbing pain in my heel. I rolled around on the bed in pain and then I noticed why my heel hurt. I looked up at the wall and couldn’t believe what I had done. There was a round hole in the wall the size of my heel. The thought of curiosity about the inside of the wall was immediately replaced by the freaking out. At first I thought about covering up the hole with a pillow, but then I remembered that my sister was there and obviously she would rat me out. Unfortunately, the next thought was to tell my parents. So I walked out to them and prepared to tell them that I killed the wall.
           

“Hey Mom and Dad…I accidentally kicked the wall.”
           

“Oh, are you okay?” my mom asked.
           

“Um, yes, but the wall isn’t. I put a hole in the wall with…with my foot.” I nervously replied.
           

We all went back into my bedroom and I showed them the hole. I felt so much pressure; I thought I was going to burst. In my mind, I started going through all the scenarios of their reactions. I imagined how much trouble I was going to be in and assumed that I would have to fix it somehow. To my surprise, my mom just smiled and assured me that it was fixable. She went to the basement to grab something and when she returned, she had a patch and some paint like substance. All I could do was stand there in amazement. I couldn’t believe that it was able to be fixed and confused about the fact that she was laughing. She patched up the wall and told me not to touch it.
          

  “Now, try not to kick another hole in the wall,” she said laughing as she left my room. My sister and I decided that we shouldn’t play that game anymore. We cleaned up all the pillows and I could tell that she was happy that it was me and not her that kicked a hole in the wall. We decided that from now on, before we make up games, we have to make sure that they don’t involve killing the wall.