The motivator named Guilt

My gym has this policy: Your child must be 6-months-old before you start to bring said child to the gym daycare.
I thought maybe it wasn't too stringent, so I call and ask. I got an obstinate "yes, my baby must be 6-months-old".
OK, so they're strict. I ask the next logical question in my mind, "you want some kind of proof she's 6-months-old when I first bring her?" This man child, who just seconds earlier had been so snobby and insistent on my 6-month-old question, guffaws as he says, "ah, no."
So essentially you're telling me that I could have been bringing my child for the past month, because that's how long people have been asking me if she is 6-months-old.
Upon relaying this story to others, I get asked the inevitable question: "Are you going to take Jane to the gym tomorrow?"
Heavens no.
Because, inevitably, I would drop her off, they would ask me "Is she 6-months-old?" and I'd have to lie. And that white lie would haunt me. I'd be running on the treadmill sick with guilt. Shortly thereafter, the few measly pounds I've worked so laboriously to shed would come galloping back as a type of curse for my 6-month-old white lie.
I'd much rather wait the 8 more days until she's officially 6-months-old.
Watch. Now they won't even ask the question.