I`m feeling very Olympic today.

My Dad, and everybody’s Pops, is on a diet, and Kira has taken on the role of personal trainer. So there has been the talk of exercise in the air. Cody has picked up on this and has decided he wants to exercise, but not any old exercise, the worst exercise of them all. Yes, it’s true, he wants to JOG. Of all the fun things out there to do, Cody has chosen jogging. Now, I love my boy more than all the play dough in the world, but there is no way I am going to become a jogger. Joggers should just leave an hour earlier and walk. I once dreamed I was jogging, I woke up in a terrible sweat. It wasn’t all bad though, I got my rest and my exercise at the same time.

Now, during the last Olympics Cody really got into the spirit of the games and re-enacted every, and I mean every, sport they showed on TV. For three weeks we had a podium in the lounge and a ribbon across the passage. He would lift the broom from the ground grunting and groaning as only a Turkish weightlifter could. The couch doubled as a canoe during the paddling events, we drew the line after he asked us to throw water at him.
The gymnastics was a particularly stressful event for us as they started with the beam and followed it up with the rings and the vaulting. We, for obvious reasons, couldn’t watch the archery and javelin.

So with his history as an Olympic athlete, I thought I could steer him away from the jogging thing and towards a more interesting form of exercise. Gymnastics, unlike jogging, is a respectable pastime so I asked Cody if he would like to try it out. Shockingly he agreed straight away, and asked “When can we go?” I said I would go and check at the Gym if they had classes and when they were, to which he replied, “When we go can we jog there?”