Picture, in your mind, a peaceful living room with some exercise equipment set up.  A mini trampoline in one corner, a yoga mat stretched across the middle, some weights placed within easy reach.  (I feel like I am describing the set up for The Friendly Giant) Music is playing at a volume that is conducive to the energy that is being expended.  There I am doing my morning routine, getting through it methodically.  First the dog starts parading through chasing her food ball.  I redirect her and block the entrance so that she can no longer manoeuvre between my legs while I attempt to do my jumping jacks.  Then my son, who has made a rare before noon appearance, starts flying a recently acquired remote control helicopter around the room landing it on various surfaces.  One of the surfaces he is trying to land it on is me while I am doing my sit ups.  The dog, now finished with her kibble hunt, is concerned about the helicopter flying about the room.  She feels it is necessary to express her concern by trying to sit on me while I am working on my floor exercises.  I push her off me and flip over to do my plank.  She tries to crawl under me and flip onto her back at the same time, clipping me in the ear with her flailing paws.  The rest of my children come running into the room to see what all the noise is about.  My son successfully lands the helicopter on my hip.  It was at this point I gave up. There is a fine line between a spontaneous creative environment and a nut house.