Working Mum: My boy's heading towards Insanity
By Tabitha Ronson
Master A is fixated with the craziness that is Insanity.
I caught him glued to the Shaun T fitness phenomenon on the Shopping Channel early one morning last week.
While I was under the impression he was watching Octonauts, turns out he's been zoning in to the advertisement for the "hardest workout ever put on DVD" for a couple of months now.
When I questioned him about his choice of viewing, he eulogised about the wonders of the 30-day shredding workout. Like a true convert, my six-year-old dropped to the floor mimicking the moves. Side press-ups, squats, plyometrics - Shaun T and his disciples would have been impressed.
It was disturbing when he lifted his pyjama top, sucked in his (non-existent) tummy and flexed his (non-existent) muscles like a contestant battling it out for the title of Mr Universe. It just looked very wrong.
"My New Year's resolution, Mummy, is to get ready for Insanity," he said.
I didn't think anything of it until I picked him up from school. Normally, he tucks into a little snack box I prepare for the journey home. He declined, saying he wasn't hungry. It was the same response when I asked him what he wanted for supper. I didn't push.
Clearing out his schoolbag, I found the fruit I had sent for his mid-morning snack untouched in its Tupperware box.
At breakfast the following morning - after his daily dose of Insanity - he pushed around his cornflakes, again saying he wasn't hungry. He's never been a big eater, preferring to do anything other than sit down to eat a meal, so again I let it go.
On the school run, he started talking about one of his classmates, saying how "fat" he was. "He's not like me and Insanity, Mummy," he chimed.
The refusal of food became clear. Master A was not eating thinking that was the way to achieve the definition and physique of trainer Shaun T.
Working Mum, trying to convince Master A that to get ripped like Mr Insanity you must eat.