One of my biggest fears is that my children will grow up to be like their dad.
That's why I'm banning them from going to journalism school.
OK, their career paths aren't the real concern for this column, so let me rephrase that.
One of my biggest fears is that my children will grow out and be like their dad.
That's why I'm banning them from going to journalism school and from getting portly like their pop, whose DNA was programmed to expand outward rather than upward.
They've got good senses of humor, but I don't want to hear them repeating my tired jokes that I recant about being 5-foot-8 both ways or being taller when I'm lying down.
Several things have had me thinking about childhood obesity recently.
For one thing, as I've been struggling and rapidly regaining pounds, I've thought about what kind of an example I'm being for my fairly impressionable young alarm clocks.
My oldest son used to brag about how I'd run, bike and swim. He was proud I did triathlons. It's hard for him to do that now that I don't do any of that now — a trend I hope to buck soon. Very soon.
He's also at the age where he'd just play video games all day if we let him, and the fact that I spend most of my time staring at a computer screen and not being active certainly doesn't make me feel like a great role model for living an active lifestyle.
That's gotta change — for me, him and the rest of my family.
Then there are my eating habits, which are a lot closer to horrible than healthy right now.
My nearly 1-year-old boy is still pretty much in milk-does-a-body-good mode, so I don't think I've messed him up too bad yet. But my 5-year-old boy and 3-year-old girl are well aware of why daddy is always headed to the fridge and the pantry.
When I grab the ice cream container, they want some too.
When I grab a handful of chocolate chips, they want their share.
When I sneak bites of cookie dough or stick my finger in the bottle of hot fudge sauce (multiple times, so be forewarned if you ever eat sundaes at my house) or raid my wife's secret hiding place for candy and snacks, well, you can imagine what the kids want and are thinking.
And it isn't, "Hey, dad — while you're pigging out on treats and sweets can you please pass the broccoli, carrots and apples?"
I feel like I've kind of dodged a bullet so far, though, considering they actually do like to eat broccoli, carrots and apples.
Heck, my daughter even likes to nibble on lettuce. By itself. Without a gallon of oily dressing, croutons and cheese on top. Crazy, huh?
Of course, we also had to put a lock on the food-storage room door downstairs because they started prowling when their tummies started growling. So they are normal.
My wife, who's always been in a healthy weight range, is worried about their fate as well. It didn't help that she saw pictures of me when I was 5 and 6 years old. At age 5, I was smiley and slim. At age 6, I was still smiley, but, well, not-so slim. Let's just say some of my baby fat came back early — and stayed.
That might explain why my wife — who, bless her healthy heart, is already the kind of mom who prefers giving our kids and husband oatmeal instead of chocolate cereal for breakfast — has been making extra healthy food lately. Like homemade whole wheat bread and fiber-loaded brown rice, which they snarf down.
She's even been conjuring up a stealthily healthy concoction that's become quite the hit. Believe it or not, she swears her spinach blueberry shakes are the lunchtime rage.
"It's really good, too," Heather told me. "You can't taste the spinach at all. They gobble it down."
Popeye would be proud.
But careful. She has threatened to break the legs of anybody who tells the kids they're slurping down spinach. Or maybe it was just my legs, so let's keep this our secret. OK?
Point is, I'm giving myself this pep talk to remember that what I do as a parent doesn't just affect myself, whether it's for good or for bad.
So don't be shocked if you see me start exercising again.
Heck, I might even give spinach blueberry shakes a try.
email: jody@desnews.com