I’m sharing this because it’s 2026 - and this isn’t good enough anymore. If burying our heads in the sand to make others comfortable is the price of being “polite”, I’m not interested. It’s time to cal it out.
My daughter Indi is four. She’s most likely Level 3 autistic. She’s disabled.
Every day is a kinda tough day when you’re living in a world that isn’t designed for you.
It’s school holidays at the moment. Allie’s (my wife) nervous system is shot to pieces after a lot of days back to back with Indi. Mentally, physically & emotionally fried.
That’s just what being a parent-carer does to you. Nothing crazy, but she needed an hour to re-set.
So I took Indi out.
We know bouncing regulates her (3 trampolines and 2 swings in our house). It calms her nervous system. It gives her body what it needs. It’s her safe space.
We tried We Rock the Spectrum first. They were full. Fair enough.
So we went to Bounce in Keysborough. A place Indi has been to before and loves.
I did the spoon theory math (the math I’m running every second she’s awake with us).
I figured the bright lights and loud music would be offset enough by the regulation of an hour bouncing - because her system loves it.
Also, an important point to note before i continue: Indi 100% presents as disabled. You don’t need a sunflower lanyard or headphones to work that out.
We wear those things as a massive clue - but honestly, watch her for one second and you know.
I went for one hour.
One hour of regulatory relief for her.
One hour for her to be a normal kid on a weekend.
One hour for me, as a dad, to breathe while she was happy and Allie to reset.
I did not come for 15 minutes of ignorance followed by 15 minutes of being stalked around a venue while being told when & where it’s convenient for my child to exist.
We walked in. I went to pay. Indi spotted the trampolines and bolted with excitement.
I had that split-second choice: chase her, or pay.
I chose to pay - because I’m trying to do the right thing … the card machine was taking it’s time and then I saw her slip.
Her socks had gripped by the cafe and she went full forward and smashed her face.
I sprinted. She was inconsolable. I was holding her tight.
Blood coming out of her mouth.
I looked around.
Loads of people saw. A few people were watching. Including staff.
No one came over. No one asked if she was okay. I held her for a couple of minutes.
Eventually another mum brought us an ice pack.
She’d gone to the counter to get it - which means staff gave it to her.
So staff knew there’d been a health and safety incident.
And still, not one staff member checked on us.
Thank you to that mum.
Shame on you, Bounce. Part 1.
Once Indi settled a little, I went back to pay - because I wanted to do the right thing.
Blood still on her mouth.
And on my t-shirt.
And I literally showed the girl at the front desk.
Headphones on. Sunflower lanyard on. Clearly distressed. Clearly disabled.
Again, not one person said anything.
Not a word.
Shame on you, Bounce. Part 2.
We went in. Shoes off. We started bouncing.
The basketball trampoline area was empty. No kids anywhere near us.
Indi pulled my hand to go on with her. So I went on with her.
Technically yes - I was “bouncing” with her, as in my knees were bending. Not launching, not jumping high. Simply holding my daughters hands. My feet were on the trampoline the whole time. Doing what any dad would do, except with a child who needs that physical co-regulation to stay safe, is non-verbal and doesn’t understand cues. If I’d have denied her pulling my hands, she’d have had a meltdown.
And that’s when I noticed it.
The stare - from the first staff member.
Not one of curiosity. Not empathy. Not someone with a smile, loving seeing a Dad holding hands with a 4 year old disabled girl.
That death stare.
I saw her touch her earpiece. Radio chatter.
She walked over.
“Excuse me, sir. You can’t have two people bouncing on the same trampoline.”
I said calmly:
“Yep, I get that. I’m keeping her safe. She’s disabled.”
“Yes, but you’re still not allowed.”
“She won’t understand that instruction. If she wants to hold my hands, holding my hand is the safest thing.”
No reply. No kind, empathetic chat.
She walked off. Back on the radio.
I remember thinking: Oh God. I know where this is going.
Shame on you, Bounce. Part 3.
Indi bolted to another area - like a normal excited four-year-old girl.
Still plenty of space.
She bounced from one empty trampoline to another.
If she headed toward one with kids, I redirected her.
Same thing again.
Another staff member. Another radio touch. Another script.
“Sir. Two people can’t be on the same trampoline.”
“Yes. I know, your friend told us. As I told her, she’s disabled. That’s why I’m wearing this lanyard. She has massive headphones on. I’m not making this up. She will not understand that instruction.”
“Well, if you could just stand on the edge”
“That’s not possible. She won’t understand that.”
At this point again, the staff member disengaged. There was nothing about either of those conversations that said “we value her as a human and want to create an amazing, inclusive experience for her”. Nothing.
Shame on you, Bounce. Part 4.
I could see where this was going, so I said to her:
“I can see you are all talking on your radio. If your manager wants this addressed, can you please ask them to just come talk to me? I’m not spending the next hour explaining this to every staff member.”
A few minutes later, the manager arrived.
“Hi Sir - Are you able to stand on the edge so we can have a chat?”
“I can for a second - but I’m literally tracking her around the place to keep her regulated and safe - stop her running into someone else’s area.”
“Well, I’d really like to step aside for an in-depth chat?”
“No. You’re not listening. I can’t. I’m happy to chat, but you are going to have to move with me.”
She followed me around. I got the script repeat again - 2 people can’t be on the trampoline, can i stand at the edge - i go over it again and again why that literally can’t happen. At which point I’m done going around in circles, getting nowhere, putting indi’s safety at risk by not focusing on her. I didn’t come here to justify her existence. I didn’t come here needing to prove anything to anyone. I wanted to just have a bounce. So I flipped the conversation. Calmly, but I didn’t shy away.
“Do you know what the sunflower lanyard means?”
“No I’m sorry Sir I don’t.”
I explain what it is and also that it’s a disgrace no one in this building knows.
I carry on:
“Can you see without it that she’s clearly disabled? And I’ve told you and all your team she is.”
“Yes.”
“So do you now understand what I’m saying?”
“Yes, but the safety rules we have sir are …”
“I can’t do that. She will not understand that instruction. I’m confused how we aren’t grasping this yet.”
And then - after me saying this over and over, after watching me track Indi around the venue for five minutes - she suggests:
“What if we section off one trampoline in the corner for her to bounce on?”
I’m sorry… what the actual fuck?!
Like she’s a leper?
She’s not causing any issues to anyone and you want to hide her away.
First of all: listen to me - she will not stay in one corner.
Second: what are we doing here? Are you worried her disability is about to spread? And ok, maybe that was her attempt at inclusion. Missed the mark by an absolute mile.
Shame on you, Bounce. Part 5.
After continuing to follow us around, so I couldn’t actually be there for her, Indi was now dysregulated. And I was getting visibly upset.
We’d been there 15 minutes, and everything about this interaction was telling us we weren’t welcome.
So I said it plainly:
“If you want us to go, just tell us to go. I thought this was a more inclusive place.”
She shifted into customer-service mode.
“I want to listen and understand.”
Then she said:
“Maybe if you come at 8am? Or midweek?”
I’m sorry - Again, what the actual fuck?
It’s 11am on a Saturday.
So I said it out loud:
“So what you’re saying is - sorry, you’re disabled, so you can’t come during normal hours. I’d love to be in a world where i can plan so diligently to suit you. But it’s Saturday, 11am, I didn’t realise there was a sign above the door saying disabled kids not welcome at the mo - maybe try a different day.”
“Oh no, that’s not what I meant.”
It might no be what you meant, but that is exactly what you’re saying.
And let’s be crystal fucking clear:
It wasn’t busy
There were no dangerous collisions
Indi wasn’t charging around like a bull in a china shop
She was a little four-year-old girl bopping around a trampoline park.
Other than the usual stares, she wasn’t spoiling a single child’s day.
The tough time was not her on the trampoline - it was your ignorance and incompetence.
Shame on you, Bounce. Part 6.
10 minutes later I’m I stood at the top of a slide.
I had tears in my eyes.
I was angry. I was upset. I was in disbelief.
I’m someone who wants to believe we’re making progress and see the good in everyone. That families like mine can find a way.
And in that moment, I felt beaten.
I genuinely felt it would be better for everyone if my disabled family stayed indoors on weekends to keep “the other patrons” - as she so elegantly described them - comfortable.
I don’t hide emotion well.
Another member of staff saw me upset (who had an ear piece in, so was clearly hearing the story on the radio).
I wasn’t shouting. I wasn’t swearing.
I was just sad. And completely alone.
She could have checked in to see if I was ok. She didn’t. No one said anything.
Shame on you, Bounce. Part 7.
She comes back and says, over and over, some version of:
“We’d love to learn more.”
“We’d love to be educated.”
“We’d love to understand.”
But the vibe wasn’t learning.
It was: say the right things, manage the situation, move them along and hope they don’t complain.
And then she asked me a really weird question:
“How are you feeling about this right now Sir?”
“I’m pretty irate”.
I don’t know if that’s customer service 101, fake empathy, or her trying to assess whether I was about to lodge a complaint. I was clearly pretty fucking angry and upset.
And here’s the thing people don’t understand:
Indi co-regulates.
If I’m struggling, she struggles.
Every minute spent where I’m not with her, because for some reason the onus is on me “educating” your staff, is a minute she’s getting more frustrated.
And guess what - Cue meltdown.
The rest of the session was gone.
I said to her:
“Do you know how hard it is to spend every second she’s awake trying to make this world work for her? This is her safe space. Bouncing regulates her.
I’m trying so hard and you and your team are making the hardest thing I’ll ever do in life a hundred times worse.”
Our other kids have swimming & sports clubs & birthday parties on a weekend.
Indi doesn’t get any of that - not because she doesn’t want to - because the teachers & coaches aren’t trained for her. So we try to give her something.
And this is what happens.
Indi’s gone now. We can’t win.
Shame on you, Bounce. Part 7.
As if being tracked by one Manager wasn’t frustrating enough, she went to find her Manager.
Manager 1 - “She’s there waiting for you by the tables Sir - If you go down, you can have an in-depth chat with her”
“I’m not sure why this isn’t landing yet, I can’t just go have an in-depth chat and leave her”.
By this point I’m absolutely done. I’m out of words. So I don’t say anything.
So Manager 2 comes up to us: “Xxxxx has brought me up to speed with what’s happening - i just want you to know I’m here for an in-depth chat when you are ready”.
“I’m ok thanks. We are done. I’m going to try and get her out now”.
What I was thinking and wished I had the energy left to say. If you really want to know what you need to do:
Go educate yourself - start with the Sunflower Lanyard program. It’s not my job to educate you. It’s not my job to justify my daughters needs and existence to you. It’s 2026. It’s your job - go do it.
Apologise - I did actually say this to her - not one of you has said sorry (and they still didn’t the whole time we were there)
Watch your CCTV - you have cameras everywhere. Learn from it.
Or if you can’t be bothered doing that, just put a sign on the door saying “No disabled kids.” Because functionally, that’s what’s happening.
And by the way - we had this same conversation eight months ago.
Quiet day. Same venue. Same behaviour. Same ignorance. I gave you the benefit of the doubt then, but it clearly wasn’t important enough to fix it.
Will it be now?
Based on the instagram messages I received on Saturday night about Bounce Keysborough and other families in a similar situation, I doubt it.
I grabbed a lolly from the emergency bag to distract indi long enough to get her out. Whilst she was struggling by this point, she would have happily bounced all day - she loves it there. But I just couldn’t be there any longer. I didn’t make a scene, demand to see the manager, just got our things and walked out quietly.
As we walked out:
Manager 1 - “Oh - are you leaving?” (with genuine surprise)
“Yes.”
Then:
“Ah, my sister’s friend works at another place that might be better for you, we rock something?”
You what?!
“That place is We Rock the Spectrum. They’re full. That’s why I was here.”
And why should I have to go somewhere else?
She loves it here.
Bouncing is her favourite thing.
Inclusivity isn’t telling disabled kids to go elsewhere because you’re too ignorant or lazy to learn.
Inclusivity isn’t about putting the disabled kids in the corner.
Inclusivity isn’t about telling us to come back during the week instead maybe.
Inclusivity is saying:
“We’re really sorry. We have missed the mark massively. Please come back next week. We’ll go away and fix this.”
We walked out. Indi in full meltdown mode (that’s now the weekend gone trying to help her get back). I’m fuming, disgusted, hurt, sad. We wanted an hour - that was it.
Your website says:
“All staff at Bounce have been trained to work with children with disabilities.”
I spoke to six staff members, including 2 managers.
The way they behaved, I’m not convinced a single one of them has ever seen a disabled child, let alone been trained.
Either that page is a lie, a nice tick box exercise, or you need a refund from whoever is delivering your training.
In three years of living this parent-carer life, this was the worst experience I’ve had - and there have been some contenders.
It’s 2026. Maybe you were trying, but unfortunately, that’s not an excuse anymore.
You might have gotten away with this in 2016.
You don’t get to now.
So I’ll ask it plainly:
Have inclusivity laws been broken here?
Because something about this is deeply wrong.
I came here for one hour of relief.
I didn’t come for 15 minutes of ignorance and then 15 minutes being followed around while being told when to bring my daughter so she doesn’t inconvenience “other patrons”.
The hard part today wasn’t Indi.
It was you.
My daughter deserves to exist in the world.
On weekends.
In public.
Holding her dad’s hand.
Shame on you Bounce.
Orrin XOXO
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