that counts, right?

On the last day of school before vacation several eternities ago last week, Ezra came home with a calendar on which I--with his involvement--was supposed to keep track of the exercise he had gotten each day. There were suggested activities for the family for each day that I could circle--a 20-minute walk, a game of baseball, calisthenics (especially fun--who doesn't love a jumping jack?). There was also room to describe any "other exercise" if that game of baseball, for example, never got off the ground.

I really do applaud the school's efforts to get everyone off their fat asses encourage physical activity, end childhood obesity, and facilitate quality family time. And I really did want to fill out the form because I want Ezra to get an A+ in life, and at the very least, get into Harvard to give Ezra a sense of accomplishment.

Yet I found it too frustrating to keep up with. I mean, when your kid is on the move more or less the entire day, and yet none of the activity can be technically characterized as "sport" or "exercise," you feel foolish telling the truth, which would look something like this: Played Power Rangers on playground with his brother (20 minutes)...rapidly punched his father's gut (30 seconds)...jumped to floor from top bunk (10 minutes)...played Secret Agent with his brother throughout three floors of home (25 minutes)...temper tantrum (10 minutes).

I gave up on the form, but not before listing thumb wrestling as Monday's activity. Ezra, Levi, and I had kind of a round robin thing going on the couch for a while there, which was awesome, until finally I had to throw in the towel because my thumb was screaming. And my god, I was so sore the next day. Middle age is hitting me hard.