Who needs a gym when you’re a dad?

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I joined a gym once.

Never again.

I had great intentions at the start.

I thought that money coming out of my bank account each month would be enough of an incentive to get my bottom off the sofa and heading in the direction of the gym for a huge body changing workout.

And at the beginning, it was.

Then three times a week at the gym turned into two, which quickly turned into one, and then the inevitable none.

Now though, even if I wanted to go to the gym and work at getting that six-pack I know I’ll never have, I wouldn’t have the time.

I had been told by friends and family many times in the nine months leading up to the birth of my daughter, Caitlin, that being a parent would wreak havoc with my schedule.

I soon found out how true that was.

Now we have Alyssa as well and I have realised that there is no schedule.

Just a rough plan of how the day will go with a disclaimer at the bottom saying ‘subject to change’.

Not that I’m complaining because I love being a dad and the unpredictability that comes with it.

But with no time for the gym I have had to find new ways to get a bit of exercise each day and the great thing is that the children are there to assist.

I like to call them my little personal trainers.

And the really great thing is that they don’t charge an hourly rate that could feed a family for a week.

Take Alyssa. She’s a great sleeper but it’s actually getting her to close those eyes and drift off into the land of nod that takes time and effort.

She likes to be hugged, rocked and walked.

I’m told by my mum and dad that I was the same.

I reckon I must walk the equivalent of Eastney swimming baths to South Parade Pier each night around my house.

But every step is helping burn off those calories so I can’t complain and I’d much rather lose weight in the comfort of my own home.

Then there’s Caitlin’s role in all of this.

She loves to dance. Whether it be a song on the radio or a TV advert with an annoying tune, she’s there with her best moves and always tries to get me to join in.

I’m sure that it won’t be too long until the sight of daddy having a boogie will leave her red-faced with embarrassment.

So while it’s still cool – and with no-one else looking – away I go and more calories get burnt.

With my little personal trainers I have no excuse to miss out on exercise.

I do however have an excuse to eat that very tasty looking cake in the fridge.

Well, hard work deserves a reward.