Push-ups, baby style

More than six weeks after delivering Sonny, Mum hit the gym yesterday. Yep, we're trying to resume our customary fitness routines (as opposed to the... erm... 'unconventional' one we've blogged about).

There's no question, however, as to who's working out the hardest: Pound for pound, it's Sonny by a mile.

These last couple of days, he's added push-ups to his programme. Here's how he does them: First, we'll place him on his stomach, hoping this will put him in the mind for a snooze. With the aid of his arms, Sonny will instead begin to repeatedly raise his neck, head and torso. A trifle spasmodically, it must be said, but with stubborn determination: Several minutes can go by as he does multiple sets.

From the get-go, his calisthenics have involved lots of forceful leg-shoves. Like a swimmer doing a turn at pool-side, he's forever launching off our thighs (we are selective about what surfaces we expose to such punishment). By way of warming up, however, Sonny prefers energetic arm-whirls - clockwise as well as anti-clockwise - especially when he detects milk in the vicinity. The whirling will become frantic, he throws his whole body into it and little yips of effort are heard.

Speaking of exercising his whole body, Sonny is also doing what might be called 'body-transfers': Jogging is beyond him right now, so - as an earthworm might - he wriggles and shoves his way along for alarming distances. An obvious devotee of cross-training, he tends to mix and match all of these elements simultaneously.

Of course, as with most baby athletes, Sonny is most religious about his lung-expanding breathing exercises ('rigorously-scheduled bawling sessions' to the rest of us). Every few hours, he'll pucker up his little cheeks and howl away, sometimes so enthusiastically his rhythm becomes rather ragged. While performing his calisthenics as well.

Really, the fella's putting us adults to shame...