My two-year-old came crying to me today, "Mommy, I got a scratch." I replied with a kind little retort and a kiss on her boo boo.
Then, I asked, "Baby, how did you get that scratch? Weren't you just playing in the playroom?" That playroom has no sharp edges of any kind, and the only scratch she would have gotten in there would have been self-inflicted or from her sister. I suspected the latter.
She replied, "I was exercising, like you do, and I got a boo boo."
"Oh, I see," I said in a nice, calm voice, trying not to get upset that she went into my exercise studio (a place forbidden to children in our home). "Well, Mommy gets boo boos all the time when I exercise," was my way of trying to discourage her from going in that room. Upon hearing that, my bigger girl came running in announcing that she, too had scratches from exercising. She showed me the one on her elbow that she got from doing one exercise, and the one on her knee from doing something else. Then, excitedly, she began doing push-ups.
Somehow, my frustration about the exercise room having been breached had waned in light of the fact that my girls were excited about exercising like their mommy. We were soon all doing push-ups in the middle of the kitchen, trying not to get boo boos and laughing at how funny it was when we all grunted and snorted after a couple of reps.
I hope we never stop exercising together. Maybe tomorrow we can recruit Daddy to the kitchen for some exercising, too.
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