I've been working a lot on stacking blocks and rings with my son lately. He's able to create some pretty tall stacks by himself, and he's able to make them a little higher than his own height when I get it started. He also takes great interest in knocking them down.
By far his favorite activity right now is climbing. He's been climbing up the steps on his own for several months now, and does so when we ask him "Do you want to take a nap/ bath?" or "Do you want to go to bed?". For a while he would reach out for my hand or grab the railing when he wanted to go down the steps, but last week he figured out that it's much easier to sit down first and work his way down.
Either way, we watch him very closely as he goes up and down the steps. Except when we had no idea he was doing it! It was very surprising the first few times he did it, because he wasn't even walking yet, and we didn't have a sturdy gate blocking the steps to our second floor. He eventually figured out how to push the gate out of the way and (thankfully) always gave himself away by smacking the steps or letting out a joyous squeal. That gave us plenty of time to walk the four paces across the room and grab or spot him. Even though he's gotten so confident now, it will be a while before we let him tackle the steps completely by himself.
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Today climbing went to a new level, as he made it up on one of our living chairs by himself. My first thought was "Great... One more thing to worry about!" Then I thought about how far he has come in 15 months. I remember when we were concerned that he wasn't rolling over, or that he didn't show much interest in toys, or when he wouldn't sleep through the night... How quickly all of those concerns went away just as soon as we realized we had them! As everyone told us he would, he's growing up so quickly, and I'm so lucky that I get to see so much of it unfolding this year. I still forget some days that this is my life now and how fortunate I am.
My first of six classes ended yesterday. For my final project, I wrote what I consider the worst paper I've ever written. Maybe it was a lack of interest in (or understanding of) the subject matter, maybe it was because it was the adjustment to taking a class while I was busy caring much more about something else, or maybe it was a completely unrelated factor, but I handed it in anyway. If nothing else, I had an introduction, I had a point (more or less), I had a conclusion, and I cited sources. Regardless, I was legitimately worried that I would get a really, really bad grade. The last time I handed in something of which I wasn't very proud, the grade was posted within a couple of hours, and it was very good. This, coupled with the general comments that came along with it, made me think the professor didn't even read it. I checked my grades once an hour or so until I went to bed on Sunday night and continued once I woke up. Finally, while watching TV after my son went to bed, the grade was posted.
I got a 91%.
I agreed with most of the professor's specific comments. I got an "A" in the class. *sigh of relief*
Two more classes start today. This should be interesting...
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