Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.
Did I really have the temerity to complain on my homeschooling lists about current challenges in meeting five kids' distinct and varied needs?
Did I actually lament the daily dismantling of the home by the 14 month old disassembler? Though it was only two days ago, Father, I long for the days when scattered toys, pots, blocks, magnets, puzzles, and the occasional unrolled toilet paper heap were the biggest challenges this baby posed.
I arrogantly assumed, Lord, that blocking the stairs and closing the door to the basement would keep this moving miracle of yours on one level.
Yesterday, he discovered how to climb nearly anything.
It began in the morning when I found him with a foot up on an attached crib toy, trying desperately to pitch himself headlong out of his crib.
Moving to the living room, he scooted his rolling toy next to the couch, climbed on it and soon was seated high above where any two foot tall being has a right to be. Not versed in "down," he tried desperately to pitch himself headlong off the couch.
The experimentation continued with my boundless explorer pushing the diaper box next to an end table, climbing on it and being discovered half way to the table lamp. He repeated this variation on a theme by stacking a toy box next to the TV console and trying to get on top. It transferred to the family room where the previously ignored fireplace hearth, with its enticing brick on which to bash a skull, beckoned to be scaled.
Not that I'm complaining, Lord, but I'm also pretty sure I heard him distinctly say "no" this morning.
It's going to be a long winter.