Sometimes after karate class, we end the day with a brutally refreshing medicine ball routine. Naturally, we have to leave the little kids out. Noah, who was maybe six or seven. was naturally was disappointed.
“Why can’t I do the medicine balls?” he asked.
“Because,” I explained. “The medicine balls are a significant fraction of your body weight.”
“In fact,” added Joe. “We could probably use you as a medicine ball.”
Immediately, I picked up Noah, lifted him to chest level, and threw him to Joe, about ten feet away. Mind you, Noah’s mom was about twelve feet away, watching us chest pass her son back and forth for about a minute.
It’s really great for the upper body, and Noah laughed maniacally for the rest of the night, for as far as I can tell.
Next class, the first thing Noah says when he sees me was: “Can you throw me around again?”
“What?” I ask. “Like the medicine balls?”
“Yeah.”
I was silent for a second. There’s only one thing that a responsible adult can say in this situation. I stared him down, and in a clear, stern tone, told him:
“Yes, but only if you’re good.”
June 25th, 2009 at 9:17 am
I’ve found that young children, particularly young boys, enjoy so many death defying activities. I’ve seen my younger brother launch himself off of coffee tables, get thrown across the room, and assuming, of course, he had no lasting damage, laughed and said, “Let’s do it again!”
Ahh, youth.
June 25th, 2009 at 12:15 pm
i would go one step further and argue that kids need to be systematically, emotionally and physically broken down to mere poo…..ready for molding into funny poo shapes.