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“Let’s move into Cat-Cow,” Meadow chirps. “Hands and knees, everyone!”

I groan and lower myself down, bones protesting.

Lena gives me a look. “You sound like a haunted rocking chair.”

“This is my nightmare.”

“You’ve never tried yoga before?”

Poses like these usually involve having a woman with me, but I don’t tell her that.

“I’m more of a hiking and weights guy.”

She bites her lips together to stifle a laugh. “So manly.”

Rosie is giggling now, slapping her hands against the mat. Lena gently helps her roll over and points out how she’s “doing yoga” too, while my spine cracks so loudly I think I saw a toddler flinch.

“Now we’re going to tryHappy Baby!” Meadow announces.

I glance at Lena. “Please tell me that’s a position for her and not me.”

“You’ve never looked more out of place.”

“Glad I could entertain you.”

“Oh, you’re doing amazing,” Meadow calls out to me like I’m a toddler who just found the potty.

I shoot her a look that probably saysfuck offin every language.

Rosie, however, is having the time of her life. Lena lifts her little legs and gently helps her wiggle. She’s in her element. They both are. I don’t know who’s having more fun.

“You’re doing great, sweetie,” she praises Rosie, not me, because obviously.

Meadow smiles at us again. Why is she always smiling? My face hurts just from looking at her. “I just love seeing dads here.”

I open my mouth to correct her, then stop. No one needs that conversation in this room. Not while I’m barefoot and humiliated and trying not to pull a hamstring.

We switch poses every five minutes, and with each one, I discover new parts of my body that can ache. At one point, Meadow says something about “opening our heart chakras,” and I black out for a second.

Eventually, Lena leans in and whispers, “You can go wait in the car if you want.”

“I’m fine.”

“You look like you’re dying.”

“I said I’m fine.”

“You just did a downward dog and audibly grunted ‘fuck me.’”

This is a special kind of torture. I’m never agreeingto sign Rosie up for anything again without having it in writing that I don’t have to participate.

Rosie farts during the next pose. Loudly. A real eye-watering one.

Meadow, of course, claps. “Release is good! Such a healthy digestive tract.”

Jesus Christ.

At the end, Meadow dims the lights forbaby savasana,whatever that is. Lena lies back with Rosie curled on her chest, and I have to admit, there’s something about the way her hand rests gently over Rosie’s back, her other arm flung lazily across the mat, eyes closed and peaceful, that hits me right in the sternum.