My son and I get home yesterday, and we’re going through our normal routine. Get the dog out, do his homework, that kind of stuff. Afterwards, he asks me if I’ll play with him. “Not yet,” I say. “I’ve got to do my exercises first.” He nods at that, because it’s something he knows that I do. So I go back in my bedroom and change into my sweats, and he grabs some of his Legos and sits on the couch and starts playing. Then, as I’m pulling on my t-shirt, he knocks on the door and comes in. “I’m going to play back here, so you don’t have to be alone.”
I don’t mind telling you I melted. Just a little. But then, he starts getting interested in what I’m doing. “Are you going to do push-ups?”
“Yes,” I tell him.
“Are you going to do backwards push-ups?”
“…I don’t know what those are, son.” So he demonstrates by lying flat on his back, bracing his hands on the ground, and using his arms to lift his back and shoulders off the ground. Honestly, it looks like a legitimate exercise. Then he helped me count repetitions, and asked me if he could help put my weights (10 pound hand weights) away, and generally hung around and did things with me.
Yeah. It was a good day.