Yesterday, he climbed up on a chair that accompanies a desk, which is home to our fish tank. This time he didn’t waste time standing on the chair; he started to work climbing from the chair to the desk and he looked like he was preparing to ascend the fish tank after that.
He’s had a minor spill or two but nothing to scare the climber out of him.
As he stands, teetering on the edge of a chair in the kitchen, I'll say “Sit down on the chair, Owen.”
And he'll flash me a devilish grin and plop down so fast, it probably would be safer if he’d just stay standing.
Will at this age spent more time observing the world and less time climbing it. He’d enjoy watching other kids climb things at the park, while he stood wide-eyed, just taking it all in. Owen would rather run and climb himself. He’s also taken to hanging from low-lying bars like a little monkey and he loves to run from me laughing when I suggest we do something like put his shoes on. I’m just glad I got the avid runner-climber in round two, now that four years of parenting has sufficiently squelched most of my hover-mother instincts. If Will had climbed like this, I would have been pulling my hair out. As it is, I can’t help but enjoy watching Owen climb the world and look out upon it with unfettered joy -- as if no man before him had ever climbed a chair so tall.