It was a sunny day, in the middle of winter, with moderate temperatures. The high winds had stopped, and the cows had been chased out of the yard. All that said, it was a good day to send the children outside to play. But #8 has a love of travel. To keep him from wandering off somewhere in the wild-blue-yonder, Wife closed the porch gate.
The rest of the children were absolutely, under the pain of great punishment, forbidden to open the gate. So, like miniature mountain goats, they leapt back and forth over the gate, while #8 followed them as far as the barricade. He would try to scale the gate from time to time, but he has of yet been met with little success. So he then turned his attentions to whomever or whatever was still remaining with him, in his caged domain.
He would take on the tricycle, and show it just how strong he was by pushing it into the railing. The scooter would take on #8, and prove its wits by tripping the toddler. #8 would also set his little mind to cow-tipping. Lacking any cows, he would start tipping deck chairs. There was simply, and still is, no idleness in the little boy.
I guess he had gone over the porch a thousand times, but he had always overlooked one aspect of it… the winter firewood pile. He had seen the wood before, but only as individual sticks to be thrown and scattered. For the first time, he noticed it as a whole, and above all, he saw it was there!
The nature of boy rose up in our toddler, and overtook him. He started climbing the woodpile, and set to it with a will. Over the unsteady logs, he gingerly made his way to the top, where he stood up and slapped the house just to prove he was there. Smugly, he looked back on the track that he had defeated, and his muscles froze. With the terror that is only so absolute in children, he screamed.
Wife found #8 trapped on top of the woodpile, though it was only as high as her knee, but for the little boy, it was taller then he was. Attracted by the screams, many of his siblings gathered around and found much delight in #8’s position. Wife picked him off the wood, gently scolding him for climbing it.
So, our toddler is crossing into little-boyhood. He is starting to look past whether or not something can fit in his mouth, and is now seeking objects that he can climb… to the top of. There are some, with too much education, that might give some long explanation as to why little boys hunt for climbs to conquer. But, as I was once a little boy, I understand it perfectly.
You climb it, because it was there.