On Monday, I wrote about a special memory I have with Drummer Man.
There was a reason that this popped up to the front of my memory banks and poured out of my fingertips.
We got a Wii Fit this past week. I had a specific reason for wanting -- nay, lusting after -- one of these hard-to-find babies. With my job situation so precarious (a topic for another day), I was thinking that I could give up my gym membership ($$) and just rock the fitness at home.
Maybe that will come to pass. But there was a bonus benefit to bringing this bit of plastic and flashing lights into my living room.
On Saturday night, Wonderhubby went to a sports bar to watch some pay-per-view thing between two guys trying to beat the crap out of each other. I took a pass on the privilege of accompanying him.
Which left me home on a Saturday night with the Roo-girl as my companion.
We ran out to pick up Mexican food (which, by the way, I generally dislike, so this was the ultimate sacrifice for mother-daughter togetherness).
And then we broke out the balance board.
I went first, setting up my file and finding out that Mr. Wii thinks I'm overweight and two years older than I really am. (Bastard!)
Then it was Roo's turn. Miss 14-And-A-Totally-Cut-And-Toned-Cheerleader is, of course, the "perfect" weight.
And her Wii Fit age is ...
Wait for it ...
Are you ready?
There was much screaming and hysterical laughter.
We went on to play ... uh ... I mean exercise for an hour between us. I rocked at hula-hoop and yoga breathing; she beat me at ski jumping.
(There is nothing more humiliating that watching your virtual self tumbling down a mountainside in a virtual snowball because you don't EXTEND YOUR LEGS soon enough. WhatEVER.)
We were crying with laughter by the time we were done. (Did you know that in the soccer game, the other people throw SHOES at your head? Ouch!)
"We have to do this EVERY DAY," Roo crowed when we had had enough. "Together!"
Yep, we do.