All the World's a Jungle Gym

Or, rather, this corner of our home has become the center of all the baby action this week. Little E has learned to climb, and she's getting quite good. Soon we'll be shopping at REI and buying her a pint-sized harness and helmet. Because I know she's not stopping at this old orange chair.

She also never goes anywhere these days without her trusty toothbrush.
Great for pretending you're a mob boss with a fat cigar.

I love the annoyed looks I'm getting these days. I will not love these looks
when she's a teenager. Or maybe I still will. Let's hope.

A little breather on the way to the summit.

A pause to take in the view.

Watching her stories like a big girl.

Seriously, mom. Stop.

Chair conquered. Now on to bridging the gap to the couch. Oh boy.

This is another tricky point in parenting for me. It's so very tempting for me to hover over her, to tell her no, to keep her from climbing. But I can't control every second, and she needs to learn. This is a pretty huge milestone and though I can picture a million different ways for her to hurt herself, I have to let her try. And try again when she tumbles. 

So, I put pillows on the floor. I move the sheep skin to cover the sharp pointy parts of the furniture. And I sit nearby, ready to help her when she gets stuck (again) between the couch and the chair. I taught her how to turn around and get down feet first, and for the most part that's worked. She's never once actually gotten hurt. 

Trusting my once itty bitty blobby baby to maneuver the world (or even just the living room) will never be easy. 

I wonder if I can pad the road with pillows when she learns to drive.