Milo woke up, and he smiled.  He was sore.  Immediately, he felt it across his entire abdomen and through his back.  He groaned in happy misery.  Progress.  

Blinking his eyes rapidly to shake the sleep out of them, he reached for his phone alarm and tapped it off, then fumbled a hand inside one of several nearby boxes of Soylent and grabbed one of the ostensibly nutritious, coffee-flavored meal replacement drinks.  He opened and downed it quickly, the calories and caffeine waking him up more fully.  He sat up, tortured abdominal muscles protesting.  Hm.  Maybe overdid it a tiny bit yesterday, he thought to himself.    

Undeterred, Milo unzipped his sleeping bag and got to his feet.  He stepped over to the mirror, choosing his foot placement carefully to avoid all of his stuff that was piled around his narrow sleeping space on the floor.  He lifted his shirt to admire his handiwork.  

Two months in, and he was starting to see some serious results.  Not bad for 30.  After losing two pounds a week for eight weeks, his body fat was down to almost 8%.  While he didn’t have anything like a bodybuilder’s physique, more and more of the muscles he did have were peeking through the thinning layer of fat that used to keep them obscured and anonymous.  For the first time, there was even the smallest hint of a six-pack when the light hit his stomach just right.  He flexed, then grinned.  Almost there.  

Narcissism sated, his attention turned to his bladder, and to the muffled shouts, screams, and thumps outside his bedroom door.  He sighed.  Steeling himself, Milo exited his bedroom—and was immediately assaulted by three annoyingly cheerful children of varying size screaming “Uncle Milo Uncle Milo Uncle Milo!” 

“Good morning everyone!” he replied with half-feigned enthusiasm.  They were adorable, but they were also relentless, life-force-sucking little bastards. This wasn't even all of them, just the ones that were awake.  

He needn’t have bothered with a greeting, as his words went completely ignored.  All of the children were now on the floor, presenting him with their feet shouting “Me first!”

“Me first what?” he asked, pretending ignorance.  

“Dangle us!” came the reply.  Milo grinned in triumph.  They were finally using the word he’d taught them; they used to demand “silly hugs,” which never sat quite right with him.  

“Awfully demanding, aren’t we?” he taunted.  

The oldest one, age seven, caught on.  “Uncle Milo, will you pretty pleaaase dangle me?”

“Alright since you asked sooo nicely…up you go!”  Grabbing his nephew by the ankles, Milo hefted the boy into the air as high as he could, took a few steps to gain clearance from the other two, then swung him around in a circle several times while the kid giggled maniacally.  Before his arms could get too tired and risk dropping him, Milo carefully lined up and tossed him onto a nearby sofa, drawing a delighted squeal followed by a pitiful whine.  

“Aw, I wanted to go longer Uncle Milo…”

Yeah, don’t you always you ungrateful squirt.  

The other two had followed by this point and were again presenting feet, clamoring for the next ride.  Milo obligingly performed his avuncular duties with a ride apiece before making his escape to the sanctuary of the bathroom amid entreaties for more and longer rides.  Fortunately, by the time he was done they had fallen prey to their pathetically short attention spans and had moved into one of their bedrooms to play some kind of game of pretend…something.  House, maybe.  Tea party?  King of the dinosaurs?  Milo had no idea, he was just grateful for some peace and quiet.  

He’d only been living here at his sister’s for a couple of weeks, and he was dearly hoping that, once the novelty of his presence wore off, the kids would be less rabid in showing their affection.  Every time he left his room there would be at least one of them waiting to pounce, asking to play with him.  Milo rarely had the heart to turn them down, which left him at their mercy.  It was to the point that he’d actually escaped through his tiny, ground-level window more than once just to avoid them.  

They were good kids though.  Milo simply had the misfortune of being an odd combination of curmudgeon and pushover.  Sighing, he quickly dressed and headed upstairs, where he found his sister, Kelsie, straining over her belly in a valiant attempt to tie her shoes.  She looked up as he came into view.  

“Hello!  How goes life in the dungeons this morning?” she inquired sociably. 

“The prisoners are in unconscionably good spirits and seem to enjoy torturing their newest inmate.  Ready?”

She grinned.  “Almost!”

Before long they were outside in the very large backyard, surrounded by rural Utah, which consisted of a few neighboring houses, lots of empty space, and mountains in the distance.  Kelsie waddled determinedly out into it in a mostly forward direction while Milo ambled encouragingly beside her.  “Nice.  Good…stepping.  Keep it up,” he said.  She gave him a look.  

“You’re not very good at the whole motivational aspect of this training thing, are you?”

“Admittedly no.  I did better with the math.  Strength training plus calories in minus more calories out equals…fat loss!  Although that doesn’t really apply to you, eating for two and all.”

“So why are we doing this again?”

“If I recall, it’s to avoid—and I’m quoting you here—the “beached whale” scenario of your last pregnancy, and to hopefully jumpstart your fitness regime post-baby.  Also for me to get some kind of use out of my fancy new personal training qualification, because for some reason gyms don’t seem to like hiring people during a global pandemic.  Who knew?”  

The two of them were slowly rounding the main horse pen.  Blackie gave him a snort and a look he didn’t appreciate, but Milo let it slide.  This time.  

“That’s right,” Kelsie said, nodding to herself.  “Because exercise is good during pregnancy.”  She said it like a mantra, panting.  

“Yup.  So waddle faster, lady.”  

She shoved him.  

“Uncalled for,” he protested.  There was a lull as Milo thought of something to say next.  He was never very good at small talk.  

“So…how goes the horsing business?”

“That’s horseback riding to you, and…not as terribly as expected.  I’m sure you’ve seen some of the students out here now and again in the afternoons.  It’s a good way for parents to get their kids out of the house now that we’re not on total lockdown, but with the schools still closed.  Some are still being on the cautious side and waiting till everything blows over, but we’re covering costs at least.  I’m able to keep two employees working, and Raymond still has his job.  I can’t complain.  Although, I reserve the right to.”  

“Of course,” Milo said, nodding agreeably.  He pretty much knew all that, but making conversation was a thing.  

They finished one lap around the property, then another before they stopped and Milo had her do some other exercises.  It was mostly light band work, nothing too strenuous.  The most challenging was probably bodyweight squats, where he got a bit more serious coaching her through the proper range of motion to avoid triggering her bad knees.  

When they were done, he offered her a high five.  Sweating and drooping, Kelsie raised her palm slowly to meet his.  Milo frowned at her.  “Weak.”

Gritting her teeth, she drew back and slapped his palm with hers, resulting in a surprisingly loud clap.  

“Much better,” he said cheerily.  

“Thank you,” she replied, obviously satisfied with herself.  As she turned for the stairs to the house with her head held high, Milo surreptitiously shook out his stinging hand.  That hurt.  

Ironically, he would look back on the sensation with fondness come morning.  

*     *     *

The rest of the day passed at a meandering pace.  Kelsie parked herself on the couch with piles of clean laundry, which she folded while watching one of her favorite Marvel movies.  Milo joined her, paying more attention to his phone but keeping company at least; he’d seen the movie before and, while he’d enjoyed it, he wasn’t as big a fan of rewatches as his sister.  

Throughout the day, Milo made sure to eat every two hours while carefully measuring out his allowed portions and macronutrients, ever mindful of his six-pack aspirations.  Kids were fed as well, on chicken nuggets with ketchup and a banana apiece.  Kelsie wrinkled her nose and kept her distance from the latter.  Bananas weren’t even allowed in her house until Milo started living with her, at which point they had suddenly wormed their way back into her life, much to her dismay and her children’s delight.  

Milo did a light ab workout in the afternoon, along with some cardio.  While showering afterward, he toyed with the idea of organizing the tremendous clutter in his tiny bedroom, but put it off until the following day like he had the last dozen or so days.  Instead, he found himself playing “the floor is lava” with the kids, and actually genuinely enjoyed himself.  

Around six o’clock, Raymond came home (to much fanfare from the children) from the office where he’d spent all day doing…something with electrical engineering.  Raymond’s homecoming meant it was soon time for dinner, after which the two littlest children were sent to bed, and Milo excused himself from his sister and her husband to go downstairs for some alone time on his favorite serial fiction website while they watched whatever show they were currently into.  

And finally, when it was time for bed, Milo tore himself from the story he was reading and switched to reruns of The Office to help him fall asleep. 

Smiling faintly as Jim played one of his classic pranks on Dwight, he closed his eyes and slowly began drifting off.  

A lazy day.  A normal day.  Milo planned on spending the next much the same, except he would drive to his other sister’s house nearby and train her instead.  

That didn’t happen.