Humpty-Pumpkin Sat on A Wall

Pumpkin is fearless. This is a trait she did not get from me, and a trait I wish would sort of evolve a bit into a healthy curiosity about life that didn’t result in too much injury.

In the past several days, she has tipped over a lawn chair (in front of the same family members who saw her get her head caught in the folding chair around Christmas – which then prompted the, “Can’t trust that kid around chairs, can ya?”). The day after tipping the lawn chair, she fell out of The Princess’s seat at the dining table. The next day, she was standing on my chair (I had JUST told her to sit down, and had turned my back momentarily to finish preparing lunch for the kids) – she was leaning on the chair back, and the whole thing, WHAMMO, fell over.

I have had to take the rocking chair out of her bedroom, as she would climb onto the seat, from the seat to the arm of the chair, stand on the arm of the chair and climb onto the top of her dresser. And you know there’s no easy way down from there (thank goodness she hasn’t yet had to learn that the hard way). I’m actually surprised she hasn’t taken a header out of her crib yet (By the time The Princess was 20 months, two months younger than Pumpkin is now, she was in a toddler bed because of the spectacular swan dive she took out of her crib one night made me so petrified that I wasn’t going to be able to sleep until the crib was G-O-N-E!).

She likes to lean waaaaaaaaay over the arm of the sofa so my heart races at the thought of her falling. Of course, the downer to having a mom in the furniture industry is that when my kids get busted mis-using the furniture they lose their furniture priveliges. Yup. Sit on the arm of my sofa? You’re done on the sofa for the rest of the day. On the floor with ya. Bounce on the seat? You’re done. On the floor with ya.

Pumpkin likes to stack things up in front of the entertainment center to climb to reach things high up. She’ll stand precariously on tiptoe, straining to reach a Dora or Diego DVD that Hubby or I have thought was “too high” for her to get. Seeing the triumphant look on her face when, a-ha, she gets it!

She’s going to give me a heart attack.

I don’t want her to go around, afraid of life (kind of sort of like me – I mean, me, I’m such a worrywart, fraidycat – I don’t want that for her). But a healthy dose of self-preservation might make us both feel a bit better.