If you build it, they will climb.

Ok, let's be clear about some things right up front.  All children can climb.  All children will wiggle and jump.  Please understand this: all children are not created equal.  If you have never had a Climber or an Escape Artist, please take this moment to offer your sincere thanks to your favorite higher power. Offerings of delicious food would also be a good idea.  As a convenience to you, I will be acting as High Priestess for all known and recognized deities and said delicious food offerings can be sent to me.  :D Ahem.  Pressing on, then . . .

Are you unsure if your child is a Climber?  Take this little quiz.

1.  Does your child climb on the sofa/couch?
a.  yes -- not necessarily a climber.
b.  no -- are you sure you have a child?  It may be a stuffed animal.

2.  Does your child climb on the table/counters?
a.  yes -- more likely to be a climber.
b.  no -- possibly a child, but still likely to be a toy of some kind.

3.  Does your child climb on top of the fridge, on top of the tv cabinet, on top of the bookcases, any assorted stacked items, on top of the upright piano, up ridiculously tall mono-limbed trees, on top of the garage shelving, and out the window and up on the roof? (Bonus points for climbing studs of unfinished houses and walking on the open beams of the roofing trestles.)
a.  yes -- Climber
b.  no -- normal kid

MUST be climbed

The list in #3 is not fiction, unfortunately.  If you ARE a parent of a climber, you know what I mean and know I did not make this up.  Sigh.  Take a moment to readjust your thinking.  Your child IS NOT NORMAL.  He/She will try to climb anything: all stairs, ladders, walls, objects, imaginary objects, and last parental nerves.  Prepare accordingly.

If your child did not pass the Climber test, the rest of us hate you.  Please go away and enjoy your calm, normal child somewhere else.  And stop complaining about their normal level of jumping on furniture and floors.  You didn't give birth to a stuffed animal, after all.

And, if there is a chance that your "child" might in fact be a stuffed animal, there are some nice people over here in white jackets who would love to talk with you.  They have a very nice, padded roo . . . uh, comfortable space . . . to share with you . . .

Climbers are not like other children.  They will, they MUST climb everything.  They see any scalable object as a challenge from the gods.  These are the kids, who as babies, will literally climb up your body and try to sit on your head.  (Better view, apparently?)  These are kids, who as teens, set their backpacks on fire and jump in the river to impress girls, climb trees in the middle of the night in full ninja gear because they are bored, and . . . well, my next example would possibly get two of my kids arrested, so I'll stop there. 

Anywho, the next other special category of small child is Escape Artist.  Wanna know how many car seats we went through before finding one Alex could not get out of?  Four.  And that's when the auto industry came out with the 5-point harness.  This only worked if all following conditions were met:

1.  All straps were fully fitted to Alex's body.
2.  All buckles were fully engaged.
3.  Alex was asleep.

Soooo love this pic!

All kinds of statistical quandaries would rip through my brain every time I would be on the freeway and see in my rear view mirror the reflection of two little feet flipping over the back seat.  So, not only do I now have to navigate the Ramp Of Death (those from Syracuse, New York will most likely be familiar with this particular roadway -- it's the ramp from 690 east on to 81 south. THERE IS NO MERGE LANE.  You get flung, blindly because of the way the ramp is designed, right into the lane of traffic. It's suicide!) but also, I have a feral toddler loose in the van.  While I'm trying avoid being scrunched into the side rail by an on-coming semi.  And it's all 75 feet up in the air on a ramp with no shoulder.

I'm thinking the Amish have a point with the whole horse and buggy thing.

Other interesting tidbits of information I know, after surviving Alex's second year:

1. The Lost Child code in every box store in the Syracuse, New York metro area.
2. It is possible to climb out of a moving shopping cart.
3. It is possible to climb out of a moving shopping cart with the buckle strapped down as tight as possible.
4. A child who has just climbed out of moving shopping cart can move faster than the speed of sound.
5. A child who gets lost more than three times in the same store during the same trip does not get taken seriously.
6. If you don't lock your front door, Alex will walk in your house.
7. If I don't lock my front door, Alex will take this as tacit permission to walk to Massachusetts.

Places Alex has been returned from (and I didn't know he was gone):
1. The school playground, three blocks away. (four times)
2. The neighbor's house, while the neighbor was in the shower.
3. The middle of the road.
4. The middle of the mall.
5. The cabin docks.  You know, the ones over the WATER.

This kid must have a whole FLEET of guardian angels.  No, they must have created a new level of guardian angels -- Special Forces Angels.  Seriously.

Unless you have had an Escape Artist, you are probably thinking "She needs to watch her kids better!" If you DO have an Escape Artist, you know that I thought he was sleeping soundly or playing quietly! Which was exactly what he was doing 2 minutes earlier when I checked on him!

Brotherly love.

Some people think child harnesses or "leashes" are demeaning.  These people either a) are the ones whose children are probably stuffed animals or b) don't have children.  Harnesses saved Alex's life.  The kid had NO FEAR.  Physical restraint was not required because I was a lazy mom who didn't want to watch her kid.  Physical restraint was required because Alex was GOING to climb up the chimney.  His very soul demanded it of him.

It's like that episode of SpongeBob where he keeps his eyeballs glued to his new plant for three days and as soon as he glances away for one second, Mystery the SeaHorse eats the plant.  You couldn't take your eyes off Alex for one nanosecond or he was out the second story window.  At night, he would stand in his crib and move the entire crib across his bedroom floor just by jerking the crib back and forth so he could climb up on to the upper bunk.  We would listen to it every night.

(Ka-chunk. Ka-chunk.  Ka-chunk.)
Me: "Your turn to go put Alex's crib back."
(Ka-chunk. Ka-chunk.  Ka-chunk.)
Jeff: "No, I went last time."
(Ka-chunk. Ka-chunk.  Ka-chunk.)
Me: "No, I did."
(Ka-chunk. Ka-chunk.  Ka-chunk.)
Jeff: "Rock, paper, scissors."
(Ka-chunk. Ka-chunk.  Ka-chunk. Screeeeeechhh)
Me: "Crud. That's the window. I'll go."

Repeat every night from May 1998 until January 1999 when we gave up and put him in a toddler bed.  This had NO chance of keeping him in bed, but at least the fall was shorter to the floor and he couldn't move it.  And, of course, we nailed the windows shut.  Locks are for amateurs. 

This is the child who will be old enough to get his driving permit next week.  Sigh.

But remember, Parents of Climbers and Escape Artists: at least your child is not a Cabbage Patch Doll :D  And Karma is REAL! Mwahahahhahaha!