Wii Are Not Fit

It is raining. It is raining so hard that even Small Boy refuses to go outside. It takes a lot to prevent Small Boy from going out, as he "feels sick after being inside for too long" apparently.
But today the trees are bent double in the wind and the chickens are sheltering under the nesting boxes huddled together to prevent their feathers from being ripped off. The dog is letting out great rumbling sighs of despondency and the cats have their faces to the back of the sofa. Daughter is out for the day and Husband is avoiding having to deal with an overactive Small Boy by having an extended lie-in.
I am trying to ignore him too, by reading the paper.
It is not working.
"Let's go on the Wii!" shouts Small Boy, after his fifty-sixth lap of the kitchen table. "I've got too much energy and I need to get rid of it."
"So I see," I say from behind the newspaper. "OK, I quite fancy using the Wii Fit anyway."
We spend the next hour cursing the Wii for not being a sentient being. It has "unsynced" itself and does not seem to respond to us hurling abuse at it or hurling the controls around the room. Finally the light that is supposed to stop flashing stops flashing and we have lift-off.
I stand on the balance board and attempt the Tree Pose and the Warrior Pose while Small Boy rolls about on the floor, shaking with laughter at my pathetically low "Yoga Novice" score.
"Can't you even stand straight?" he roars. "Look at me, I can do it easily."
He pushes me off, leaps on to the board and balances, Zen-like, arms above his head, one leg out at 90 degrees behind him, his eyes closed. PING! He scores 100 and is crowned "Yoga Master".
Oh to be small again.
"I'll show you a really brilliant way of getting high scores all the time," he says, noticing my crestfallen expression. "All you have to do is just stand on the board and not do anything at all." He demonstrates.
"Yes, very impressive," I say. "Only, I'm more interested in getting something out of doing the actual yoga rather than simply achieving a high score."
"Why?" asks Small Boy, his eyes boggling at his mother's ridiculousness.
"Never mind. Shall we try another game instead?"
Small Boy grabs the controls and clicks on "free jogging".
"Isn't this just jogging on the spot?" I ask incredulously, as the instructions come up on the screen informing us that we do not need the balance board because we will be . . . jogging on the spot.
"No! Deeerrrr!" says Small Boy. "You have to follow the cat and observe things as you go."
"While jogging on the spot," I point out.
"Well, OK, but - oh, just do it all right?"
Small Boy keeps control of the remote (like father, like son) and begins jogging. On the spot. "Come on, Mum, you've got to run with me!" he yells, pumping his skinny little arms and legs up and down.
Within seconds the Mii has overtaken the cat and has gone head-over-heels and whacked its virtual head on the ground.
"Heeeheheheheheheeeee!" cries Small Boy. "This is awesome! Come on, we're on our feet again. Let's go!"
By the end of the game we have virtually tripped eleven times and scored a pathetic score which labels us "Dwindling Fire".
"I LOVE that game," says Small Boy.
"But you got a terrible score!" I say. "I thought you only cared about getting the best score possible?"
"Yeah, but it doesn't matter this time cos I didn't log you off before we started. So actually it is you that has the lowest score ever! Isn't that hilarious?"
Isn't it, though.