Daughter 2 has earned the distinction of being the most physically fit girl in her first grade class. Those who know me know well are wondering how on earth she came from my loins. And may I just say, "ME TOO!" I am NOT even the most physically fit girl sitting at my desk right now! At my desk? Who am I kidding -- on the couch!
Last week when she competed for this title, she came home and said, as she took off her boots, "I won the race today out of everyone - even the boys." Wearing boots? Yes. She was wearing boots to school at the end of August. No, it wasn't cold. No, it wasn't a dress-up day. It was just Daughter 2. And, wearing said boots, she won the race!
Since becoming the most physically fit girl in her first grade class, the fitness efforts have been nonstop!! She's always been a very active chicka. Again, I know. Not sure she's even mine! We're hoping to make it onto Maurey to find out for certain.
Please note the she's always been active. REALLY active. Her first year of t-ball she played infield and outfield. Yes, she was assigned a certain position, but she didn't stay there -- she was all over the field!
Tonight, after traveling all weekend, she was ready to move and shake. So, when we got home (after 8 PM), she wanted to just get "busy being physical, yo." Direct quote.
We had - through a weird act of the highway department - been stuck in traffic for 2 hours... just sitting. And while a good stretch felt good, I wanted nothing more than to just be at home. Daughter 2, on the other hand, wanted to begin her training for the Iron Man RIGHT THEN.
So, she and I went outside and she started a full-on run down the driveway and off toward the streetlights. I started a full-on, slow-foot-dragging to the curb and waited for her to turn around.
Oh, please! Just because I was sitting down doesn't mean that I wasn't actively participating in her physical efforts. When she raced past me on her way to the other street light, I said, "You go, girl!" Then the next time I said, "Nice job, sugar!" I am nothing if not a supportive mom!
After about 15 minutes of her jog, she decided to do jumping jacks. At this point, it's dark. We have a few outdoor lights and she was going 90-to-nothing with her arms and legs flapping around.
"Join me, Momma!" she hollered. And when the june bugs came a swarming, I did look like I was doing jumping jacks. It counts.
This little bundle of spastic muscles went on and on: Push-ups, sit-ups, lunges, squats and ended with yoga, including the harder-than-nails lotus position.
Eventually I sat down on the lawn. And eventually I got up again when I started itching. Then I sat back down because I was tired of standing.
After about 30 minutes of this, I was plum tuckered. Daughter 2, on the other hand, was just getting started. I finally had to put my foot down and say, "Oh. My! Is that a snake slithering into our yard?" and that got Daughter 2 running again. All the way inside!
Eventually, Daughter 2 will learn that her Momma - while I like to be physically fit - doesn't like the WORK that's involved in being physically fit. And eventually she'll learn I hate snakes. Never would I calmly ask if one were slithering into our yard. It would sound like more like this, "OHMYGOSHTHERE'SASNAKE!THERE'SASNAKE! THERE'SASNAKE! 911! HELP!"
However, the mere act of one actually slithering into our yard would actually (and ironically) send me running!!
Until then, I'll be on the curb, cheering her on!
