I was about three-quarters of the way through Chest, Shoulders & Triceps this morning when my almost-five-year-old son popped his sleepy head in the garage. "Go back to bed. It's only 6:30," I wheezed. Although he made some lame excuse ("I, uh, need a Kleenex," he whined -- ignoring the fact that there's a box of tissues three inches from his bed), he left and shut the door behind him.
But my focus was gone. I knew there was a good chance my son never made it back to his room, and was now roaming the house unsupervised. But being a terrible and irresponsible father, I pushed this thought out of my head and finished my last six exercises: Plyo Push-Ups (I can now finally match Tony by doing 20 airborne versions), Slow-Mo Throws (which I remain unable to do with proper form), Front-to-Back Triceps Extensions (easy today because I used a too-light weight), One-Arm Balance Push-Ups (super wobbly today), Fly-Row-Presses (fun and challenging, as usual), and Dumbbell Cross-Body Blows. Ab Ripper X, however, would have to wait until evening, after we'd put the boys to bed.
When I stepped back into the house, my kid was standing in the hallway in his PJs, peeping around the corner at me. I have no idea how long he'd been standing there, waiting for me to wrap up my Tony-time.
Again: I am a terrible and irresponsible father.