Little Boy loathes jogging. It's my fault really. I didn't follow any of the advice in Petunia's Book to get him to WANT to jog. I forced jogging upon him in one form or another. I didn't give him ANY choice. He had to jog. Full stop. Come on... Petunia's motivation strategies take time, effort and self-control. Being entirely human, I sometimes just wanna veg out and let myself go.
"When I tell you to jog, you go and jog!" yelled I... too often.
"I don't know why, Mom. I just hate jogging," confessed he.
At 12, Little Boy is as tall as I am. My size intimidates him no longer. Increasingly, he just digs his heels in and won't jog. Typical teenager. Sullen and stubborn. He begins to rebel and stake out his own space, on his own terms and there is NOTHING I can do to make him jog. Even the sport Little Boy loves is a quiet and controlled one - shooting. To shoot well, you need focus and concentration. Sure! After 2 hours of shooting practice, he stinks of dried perspiration. His thigh and arm muscles are well-toned. But shooting is no aerobic exercise. Little Boy won't jog.
Oh well... better he rebel on this issue than on matters like Drugs and Sex and I Don't Wanna Go to School. But I absolutely abhor the notion that he will grow into Fat Potato Milk Boy - fat, flabby and pale skinned. I've been proposing walks in Botanic Gardens, cycling, trekking just to get Little Boy away from his books and into God's spaces. That means Fat Potato Me has to go along.
So, I was most pleased to hit on the idea of Ping Pong Squash. Little Boy and The Husband can go it together whilst I lounge lazily on my bed. Tee hee!