The Monkey Tree

As I was out in the front yard visiting with the neighbor about two weeks ago, I plopped SK up in the lowest limb of the Dogwood tree. "You're just like a Monkey!" she told him. Since then, he's been calling it his Monkey Tree. Several times a day, he asks me if he can go climb his monkey tree. He's been calling himself a monkey. He acts, at times, like a monkey.

Yesterday, before I started mowing the lawn, he asked me again about the Monkey Tree. I explained to him that I was not going to stop and start the lawn mower to get him in and out of the tree. If he wanted to get up in it, he would have to stay up until I was done. "Okay, mom," he readily agreed.

About two passes around the yard later, I saw him slide down the trunk. I think he was attempting to climb down, but it ended up looking more like a slide down a fireman's pole. Oh, how he cried! He has scrapes on his stomach and the insides of both arms.

Once his crying had subsided a bit, he confessed, "Maybe I'm not a monkey after all."
"You'll learn, Buddy," I encouraged him. "You'll practice and get better."
He didn't seem intrigued by the idea of practicing any more of that.

But it's been on his mind. This morning, he said, "Mom, I think maybe we should wait until my Monkey Tree grows some more, bigger branches. Then maybe we should climb it."

Ah, the undeniable siren call of vertical objects. There's no need to ask, "Why did you climb it?" The answer is always, "Because it was there." They are conquerors, who ascend to the top of every pile of dirt and every piece of furniture. I love that about them both. They are adventurers!