My kids are climbers, every one of them. I had sincere, but misguided, hopes that Cecilia was going to be a horse of a different color. I can hardly claim naiveté at this point, can I? Rosie was our first extreme climber. Recently she has actually mastered scaling the fridge from the front door of the fridge. The front door. Thomas is a master climber in his own right and far more energetic and persistent. He has forced the removal of sweets from four different places in the kitchen as he has been found repeatedly stuffing chocolate into his mouth on all manner of inappropriate occasions.
John and I have noticed that while observing the toddler world you can tell at a glance who is going to give you a run for your money and who you are safe to leave unattended for
hours on end 2-3 minutes. The bad climber starts his ascendency by placing one leg atop a chair and pulling up with his arms. This is a child who is not going anywhere. Perhaps he’ll someday conquer the dining room table, but he better dream low because true heights are unattainable to him. The toddler who really has a future in harassing his parents knows that his legs are practically negligible in the equation and the arms play only a supporting role. It’s in his head that the real power lies – his disproportionally large cranium. “It’s like Sputnik!” He simply walks up to the first tier object (take the stool in the above picture as an example), places his arms on it and lowers his head. The body follows as a matter of course. Repeat the scenario several times and lo and behold, you have once again come upon Mommy’s secret store of Godiva.
CeCe has quite a large head. Sigh.