C'Mon Now, Shape It Up

By Anastasia Toufexis

"Let's do our daily playercise," burbles Instructor Jackie Rubenstein, as she launches into a nursery-like rhyme: "Open, shut them, give a little clap, clap, clap, and put them in your lap, lap, lap . . ." On cue, 19 mothers seated in a circle on the floor grasp the wrists of the toddlers before them and dutifully push and pull tiny arms and hands. Rubenstein changes her tune, tykes are settled on their backs, and mothers pedal little limbs bicycle- style. Then to a third ditty, with youngsters in their laps, mothers inch their hips forward to the center of the ring where they lift the children and make like airplanes.

Welcome to the world of totercise. Scenes similar to the one in Rubenstein's Playorena classroom on Manhattan's Upper West Side are being played out across the country as kiddie exercise becomes the latest boomlet in the ever expanding fitness field. Today pint-size workouts, some for infants as young as six weeks, are offered at many community centers, health clubs and local Ys. Specialized children's exercise centers seem to be springing up everywhere. Playorena, a chain started six years ago, now has 70 centers, mainly on the East Coast, with 7,500 pupils. Gymboree, begun in 1980, boasts 252 franchises nationwide and 50,000 clients. Cost of tot workouts: $2.50 to $10.50 a class.

Many of the centers promote themselves as a kind of head-start program for physical education. They often cite statistics showing that 50% of U.S. youngsters fail standard physical fitness tests, and emphasize that tot classes help develop motor skills, balance and flexibility. In addition, the 45- to 50-minute sessions introduce children to a variety of equipment: giant balls, hoops, tunnels, slides, mats and trampolines. Says Ellen Cutter, $ administrator of Leaps & Bounds, a popular program in Oak Park, Ill.: "It's an environment that encourages kids to be physically active and to delight in using their bodies."

There is, however, no evidence that structured exercise confers any physical benefits on infants and preschoolers, and a growing number of skeptics have criticized the centers. An American Academy of Pediatrics committee recently completed a two-year study of preschool exercise programs. "We feel that they are not necessary for normal development and in no way give children a head start," says Dr. Suzanne Haefele, a committee member. Besides, parents do a lot of the same things on their own, points out Pediatrician George Sterne of the Tulane Medical Center, such as bicycling their babies' legs or playing pat-a-cake when changing diapers. "Infants are going to exercise on their own unless you keep them in a closet," he notes. Older tots get ample exercise by fooling around in the backyard or climbing trees. Organized activities, child experts agree, should wait until about the age of six. "Our society is constantly pushing children to do things earlier and not letting them go at their own pace," cautions Marilyn Smith, executive director of the National Association for the Education of Young Children. "Parents are capable of applying phenomenal pressure on their kids without realizing it."

Perhaps in response to such critics, many preschool programs have begun to soft-pedal the fitness theme and instead promote their activities as opportunities for family togetherness and social exchange -- a message with undeniable appeal for harried upper-middle-class parents juggling careers and children. Patricia McClung has been taking 18-month-old Courtney to a Gymboree class in San Mateo, Calif., for more than a year. "It's one way to be among other children," she says, and it provides "a place for her to run wild and not wreck the house."

Some programs are tempting their clients with lines of clothing, toys and equipment. Newly opening Gymboree stores, for example, offer denim playsuits ($34), the Gymbo Toe Dancer doll ($49) and GymKid, an indoor swing set ($150). Kiddie exercise videos are another tie-in. A set of four cassettes based on the Leaps & Bounds program sells for up to $70. Observes McClung: "This is real yuppie stuff."

But many parents seem happy to plunk down the cash. They see totercise as a chance to compare notes with other adults. "It makes them feel better to see that all two-year-olds have tantrums and not just their own kids," says Susan Astor, who founded Playorena with her husband Michael. Indeed, some have no illusions about who is getting the most out of the programs. Admits Lois Sage, who attended a Manhattan class with eight-month-old Rebecca: "The exercise part may eventually be good for her, but that's not really my main interest now. I came for me."

With reporting by D. Blake Hallanan/New York, with other bureaus