The Devil In His Eye...

I have mentioned in previous posts that my son likes to climb things.

He now knows he is NOT supposed to climb things. So he does it furtively, looking around to see if anyone is going to stop him. I always do. My daughter gives him a boost. And my husband... well, case in point:

Tonight, after putting the laundry away, I rounded the corner to find my son on top of the coffee table. He had pushed the toddler chair over to give himself a boost... See?

When I found him, he looked up guiltily before he clapped and stomped his feet.

And my husband, who was on kid watching duty? Yeah, look at the picture again. That would be my husband in the background, playing computer games.

Dare Devil

My son is a dare devil. Oh, and did I mention that he is only 13 months?

I can't help but remember what his pediatrician told me when he was born. "Boys are hard until they are 2. After that, all you have to do is keep them from killing themselves." Apparently my son is an early learner.

See, he didn't only learn how to walk. Oh, no, that would be too easy. He also learned how to climb. The purpose of my life now is to pull him down from whatever item he has walked over to and decided to climb up. The couch. Coffee table. Counter. Kitchen table. The window sill --with his sister's help. (How on earth did the two of them manage that?!?!) And, when my back was turned, the playground slide. (I think I had a heart attack that day. I swear I did.)

Every time I grab him, I gently scold him (like he understands). He giggles and claps his hands, his smile a mile wide. I sigh, kiss his little fuzz ball head, and put him down, so that he can immediately toddle off, to climb up on another piece of furniture.

Would it be weird if I carpeted my entire house in pillows?