Climber

C is a daredevil. She will climb onto, stand on top of, and jump off of anything she can. This is a trait that is in no way from me. I am safe. I am a scaredy cat. I am afraid of broken bones.

C, on the other hand, is Husband, who jumped off the high dive at the age of five, fearlessly copying everything his three older brothers did.

She has no fear.

She recently discovered that she likes to climb scary metal things at the park. We spent last Monday at the park, where I spent the majority of the time standing underneath her, arms outstretched in emergency catching mode, as she shimmied up a giant metal caterpillar.

Then, today, at a park in Montgomery, my parents and I all took our posts with arms in rescue stance as she climbed to the top of a huge metal jungle gym.

It's like she wants to give me a panic attack.

Then tonight, as we were getting her settled for bed in the pack-n-play, she discovered something new- she can climb out of it.

She did this over and over again, so proud of her new trick, as I frantically thought of toddler beds and middle-of-the-night freedom.

I am not ready yet.