Climbing

Standard

It’s started. We knew it was coming. But tonight, it happened. The climbing. Oh, the climbing. Sure, we’ve seen him life his legs up and pretend to pull himself up on his crib. But nothing like this. And I have a feeling that life as I know it may be over soon. Very, very soon.

I was in Robbie’s room putting laundry away, having left him on the other side of the gate. It’s an average gate. One you’d find at Target (which, incidentally, is where I found it) or any garage sale. You know, it has the bar that goes (stupidly) horizontally across the front? The bar that just invites a child to climb up on it with both feet, balance himself, throw his hands in the air, and yell, “Tada!” The bar that gets him just close enough to the top to throw his leg over and shimmy down to the other side?

Yeah. We have that gate. On three different doors. And don’t you for a minute think that he didn’t do the same “Tada!” routine on every single gate. I suppose there is good news, though. After all, the companies weren’t stupid enough to put that damn bar on both sides of the gate.

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