At a little over 12 months old, Lauren is fearless, headstrong, and completely clueless as to gravity or its consequences. Hence she is the best climber in the house.
About a month ago Lauren fell down half a flight of stairs. She'd somehow gotten through a closed door to the hallway and made it halfway up the staircase before succumbing to gravity, but upon her father's frantic arrival all she had to show for it was a bump on the head and a disappointed howl as he brought her away from the offending structure. She had learned nothing except, perhaps, to be quieter next time she fell so that she could climb and fall to her heart's content.
Recently she has discovered the joy of flopping around on the couch, which turns out to be a fear inducing, high adrenalin game for anyone trying to ensure that she doesn't fall off the edge of that structure either. The last time we played this game she stepped confidently off the edge right into my arms, entirely sure of my reflexes and my grip, I guess, because she promptly did it again and again. Sydney watched this maneuver thoughtfully and then announced that she wanted to do it too. "No!" I said, sharper than I'd intended. My heart was already racing for fear of missing the smaller one. I couldn't imagine trying to catch the larger one.
I don't know where Lauren got this climbing gene from. Neither I nor her father are natural gymnasts and I personally have an irrational fear of heights which keeps me from attempting daring feats. I imagine the world from the eyes of a 1 year old and I can't personally imagine having the courage to step off into the abyss and trust that either the ground or a fellow human was going to catch me. But there is Lauren, climbing up onto everything and--somehow--climbing down.
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