I’m not much for working out with a friend. Even with my match-made-in-heaven John, we part ways at the gym. For me, exercise time is when I get some intense and much-needed alone time to recharge.
But today a workout buddy that I couldn’t refuse busted her way in.
Rachel (two-and-a-half) was in a sour mood, and requested a pass on our trip to the gym. I decided to give in just this once, since I could do most of what I’d planned at home, albeit with her underfoot. So much for recharging, intense, and alone.
Then as soon as I started my warm up jumps, she joined in.
Even on the single-leg hops, holding on to the sofa.
I got hot, and took off my extra layer of wind pants. She took off her tights. She’s kind of inspiring I guess, in a cute sort of way.
I pointed out that my red shorts matched her red skirt. She ran to switch her red shirt for a white one to match me.
I did some push ups. She got right down too. But of her own admission, hers were more booty raises than push ups. “I look like a fwog,” she said.
I did step-ups on the sunken living room step. I had 5 lb. weights, she wanted the 3’s. I gave her the teeny collars that hold the weights on the dumbbells instead.
She ran and finally got her gym shoes on. “I want you to do more exercise with me, mommy.”
Time for a shower. My anti-shower kid wants one too. And her clothes must be piled up just the same (carefully haphazard) as mommy’s.
Kids are copycats, though often I wish that mine weren’t (they copycat my flaws!). But in that copying lies a powerful gift too – that they might occasionally pick up on some good habits, and that I feel loved, special, worth copying. Hopefully they’ll learn more than just jumps and push ups from me.
I still need that workout alone time. But every so often, having a teeny workout buddy is really sweet.