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My Climbers

This is a typical scene in my house.

climb.gif

It usually means several things. One, they’ve figured out a way to reach something they wanted. Two, they have found either the Elf, or the candy. And, third, I will have to clean my closet it again.

My boys, all four of them, were born as toddlers — not babies. They walked, very well, by the age of 9 months. Climbed up the stairs, easily at 4 months. Could climb out of the crib before they were 1 year old. It’s been a hectic 11 years chasing them, and keeping them safe. You will typically find my dining room chairs, upside down, on the dining room table. This was a safety measure — until they figured out how to take the chairs off the table themselves — so I worried about safety, and put them back down.

When I go to the public park to play on the playground, I’m the one who gets “the look” from the other Moms, because I let my children climb, which seems to encourage her, not-so-good-at-climbing-son, to try the same things. I never panic when I see my boys climb — I know they know what they’re doing. But the other Moms in the park do enough of that for me. The other Dads — they’re fine with it too.

I will not say this in writing — but I will imply that they have had great luck as climbers — if you get my drift. This video, on You Tube, pretty much explains what they’re like.

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