“Hold out your hands and close your eyes,” Kris told me this afternoon. She’d just returned from a shopping trip. “I have a surprise for you.” I held out my hands and closed my eyes. She gave me a cold plastic package.

I opened my eyes to see she’d bought me a jump rope. “Guess how much this cost,” she said.

“I don’t know. $9?”

“No. It was only $3!” she said, her eyes wide with amazement.

“$3? That’s a bargain,” I said.

“I know,” she said. “I should have bought two.”

I opened the package and took the jump rope outside to test it. I tripped on the first two twirls — I’m old and clumsy. But then I got the hang of bouncing twice. I did a dozen twirls or so and then went back inside the house.

“Ouch,” I said.

“What happened?” Kris asked.

“I pulled a muscle,” I said. “I should have stretched first.”

“Yeah.” Kris said. “It actually says that right on the package.” She was right. It did say so right on the package.

“When I was a kid, I loved to skip rope. I don’t remember ever having to warm up,” I said, rubbing my calf.

“We’re not kids anymore,” muttered Kris. Alas, that is true.