I looked up and Anthony, who had been calmly eating his tortilla while seated in the yellow chair, had somehow scaled the table. See how proud he is?
I guess every family has to have one. I’ve finally met mine. Though I do wonder how much birth order has to do with it. Bella might have been as much of a climber and as into things as Anthony is but since she was my only one when she was this age, I was able to keep my eye on her at all times.
A short time later and he was climbing this ladder! Oh, baby boy! He was not so successful getting down and so hasn’t attempted it again.
Peek-a-boo!
See, no fear! He sees the others climbing and swinging and doesn’t see why he shouldn’t too.
This is why his face and head are constantly covered in bruises and scrapes.
The wagon only contained him for a little while. Then he figured out how to climb down. Of course.
All tired out. I put him down in the chair when he fell asleep in my arms right before we were heading out to the store. Bella adorned him with some of her fabric bits.
Eating pancakes with Bella in our Sunday after-Mass ritual. It was a fine day so the kids were dining al fresco.
Blowing raspberries with pizza all over his face.
A rare sight: all four of my gang playing happily together in the sandbox.
Cutting myself with paring knives trying to peel apples at Bella’s age is one of my earliest memories. Funny how times change, today I bet that would get a mom in lots of trouble.
I could see that some kids Bella’s age could be taught to wield a paring knife with proper supervision. Bella, however, I wouldn’t trust with a knife that could cut her… at least not now. At some point I’m sure I’ll feel safe guiding her with a knife; but she lacks focus. And maybe I’m too fresh from my ER experience on Anthony’s baptism day, which reminded me that even an extremely experienced cook can inflict harm in a moment of carelessness.
Wow, I’m so sorry. I just reread this and I think I came across sounding critical, but I was only intending to reminisce about learning to use knives a little.
I shouldn’t malign my mother so either; the odds are good she had no idea I had a paring knife until post peeling incident. And I know how THAT goes. I just caught David on the kitchen counter getting his own water glass this weekend, which I would mind an important increment less if we didn’t have bistro glasses that stack to save cupboard space. Now I’m terrified I’ll find him surrounded by broken glass one day.
I don’t think you sounded critical. I think your comment just sparked me to think again about the timing of teaching kitchen skills. I want Bella to be more ready than she is. Actually not just in the kitchen but in many areas. I’m constantly wanting to leapfrog ahead and then have to remind myself that she’s only five. Because I’m constantly comparing her to three younger children, I’m constantly bouncing back and forth between thinking of Bella as more mature than she is and then realizing just how young she is.
I’m constantly terrified of those developmental leaps that put them into unexpected danger. Recently Anthony has learned to climb onto the stool in the kitchen and has started to grab at things. The other day he emptied the silverware drawer into the sink. I’m just glad he hasn’t got a knife yet. I have found each of the others with a knife at some point. So glad so far there hasn’t been a major accident.
Unrelated to the previous conversation, but funny. David just climbed on my lap and (after seeing the picture of a random little boy on another website) asked to see a picture of Ben. So I popped over here and showed him the picture of Ben cutting strawberries.
David: what is he DOING?
Me: he’s cutting up strawberries.
David: why?
Me: so he can eat them.
David: but WHY??
My son has never met a strawberry that I haven’t needed to pry the green bits out of his mouth. He just doesn’t grok the business of cutting up a perfectly good strawberries.