"Now, I know a lot of apologists say babies are too young to exercise. ‘They’re just little. They can barely stand. Some of them can’t even walk.’ To that I say, diaper droppings! You can do anything you put your minds to. It just takes a little initiative, a little discipline and the desire to get up off the playpen floor."

17-Pound, 4-Month-Old Baby Denied Health Insurance for Being Too Fat
(Fox News, Oct. 13, 2009)

EXERCISE DRILL SERGEANT: “Attention, toddlers! I want all of you to pipe down and listen up. We’re here to get you in shape and we’ve got a big job ahead of us. Chubby cheeks, pot bellies, excess fat on your arms and thighs. You’ve really let yourselves go! You there — in the blue — look at that gut. You’re a disgrace to all that is post-natal. What’s gotten into you?”

BABY IN BLUE: “Goo goo.”

DRILL SERGEANT: “‘Goo’ is right. You’re full of it. Now, I know a lot of apologists say babies are too young to exercise. ‘They’re just little. They can barely stand. Some of them can’t even walk.’ To that I say, diaper droppings! You can do anything you put your minds to. It just takes a little initiative, a little discipline and the desire to get up off the playpen floor.

"Will it be easy? No! But you’ve had it easy all your lives. Four, eight, 12 months you’ve been here and what have you done? Lay around getting waited on like royalty. Eat, sleep and get carried around — no wonder you’re all soft and flabby. Why, I’ll bet not one of you has so much as attempted a sit-up.”

BABY IN GREEN: “Ga, ga, ga, ga—”

DRILL SERGEANT: “Now, now, don’t give me any lip. Just because you sit up once in a while — that’s not the same as doing sit-ups. And just because you can lift your head when you’re laying face down, well, that’s a far cry from a real push-up, my little pretties. And real push-ups are what we’re gonna do! Push-ups, sit-ups, jumping jah— oh, for pity sake. Look at you! Will you look at you!? I said ‘sit-ups,’ not ‘spit-ups.’ Hit the showers, young man.

"As for the rest of you, well, I can tell you’re skeptical. I see it in your faces: wide-eyed, mouths agape, drool rolling out of — excuse me, young lady, get your foot out of your mouth and pay attention.”

BABY IN PINK: “Mah mah mah—”

DRILL SERGEANT: “No use cryin’ for your mamas. You’re in my army now. And when I’m through with you, you’ll be lean, mean crawling machines!

"And lest any of you think it’s not possible, let me tell you a story. It’s a tale about a baby much like yourselves: Unfit, unfocused and on the fast track to fatsville. You wouldn’t know it to look at me now, but when I was your age I weighed 35 pounds! Why, I couldn’t even climb a flight of stairs. I had no motivation, no self-esteem and, worst of all, I had a substance-abuse problem. That’s right: I’m talkin’ about the bottle. I hit it three, four, sometimes five times a day.

"My parents? Well, they were what your psychologist types call enablers. They just let me lay there and they’d give me as many bottles as I wanted — anything to keep me quiet.

“Then one day, after a bottle, my mom put me in one of those mechanized horses outside the supermarket. Back and forth, up and down. Suddenly, I didn’t feel so good and ... well ... the guy who had to clean the mechanized horse didn’t feel so good either.

“I knew then it was time to pull myself up by the bootie straps. I knocked off the bottles, joined the Lil’ Jack La Lanne Fitness Center and ... well, you see the results before you today.

“So whattaya say, kids? Are you ready to drop and give me 20? Let’s give it a try!”

ALL THE BABIES: “WAHHHHHH!!”

DRILL SERGEANT: “I said ‘try,’ not ‘cry.’”

Contact Messenger Managing Editor Kevin Frisch at (585) 394-0770/Ext. 257 or by e-mail at kfrisch@messengerpostmedia.com.