Little McGyver is climbing trees. Well, one tree actually. It's the tree in our back yard. I nailed small pieces of wood going up the trunk of the tree for LM to use as footholds, and now he can scamper right up into the upper branches.
He loves climbing, and I love to see him climb. Really I think I get more out of him climbing than he does. Growing up, I wasn't allowed to do dangerous things like climb up a tree. My mom was pretty overprotective, and the thought of something happening to me was more than she could handle. So, there was a lot of stuff I couldn't do because it was "too dangerous." I grew up afraid of a lot of things because they were "too dangerous." I couldn't realize it at the time, but my mom was really afraid of losing me. She had some losses in her life, and I don't think she processed them very well. So I kind of became the destination point for a lot of her fears.
But enough of my $.25 psychology. The main reason I write about this is because I'm determined to pass on as few of my neuroses as possible to my kids. That's why my son is up a tree. And soon, so will my daughters. I figure they'll be plenty messed up with their own mental/emotional issues. I'll keep mine to myself...
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