Jumping Jacks

I admit that sometimes, at the end of the day, my kids don't know what to do with their own energy. So, in a gesture of kindness, they share that energy with others by resting their hands oh so carefully upon their sisters' heads, legs, arms, etc.

And, by carefully, I mean not carefully.

And, by resting, I mean smacking.

Hard.

When they get to the point where they simply cannot resist full throttle running toward someone, doing a body slam into their legs, and then smacking, there is a new consequence to their action.

Jumping Jacks.

Worry not, dear friends. I do not allow them to run across the room and attempt to leap over their brother (who, frankly, isn't much smaller than the two youngest girls).

Nope, this is good, old-fashioned, elementary school gym class calisthenics.

Always the homeschooler, I one up myself and make them count aloud as they do a hundred in the living room. Tonight's Fonda-ettes were PJ and the littler mouthy one. It went something like this:

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten...

eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, seventeen, eighteen, twenty

twenty one, twenty two, twenty three, twenty four, twenty eight, thirty

thirty one, thirty two, thirty three, thirty eiiiiiight...

eighty.

Clearly, we need to work more with these two.