We are in big trouble, Tate is a climber just like his Grandmas was as a baby. No climbing to the top of the fridge for cookies yet, thanks a lot Mom. He finds whatever he can to weasel his little body on top of: the sofa, a toy car, boxes-we've got plenty of those, an upside down bucket, the slide, and his favorite-the stairs. He gets this cheesy little grin of complete joy when he's reached the top and sometimes even raises his little arms up for me to say "ta-dah". We've got to watch him like a hawk. Here is some "soft" brotherly play- not for the faint of heart- a mild form of King of the Mountain. He loves being right in the mix. *No children were harmed in the making of this post* Mike and I are in for some serious rough housing.
