Rock climbing…

We just came back from a 6 day trip to the West coast of Vancouver Island which transformed DS into a lean, mean, rock-climbing machine. Or a mountain goat, I’m not sure… The beaches there are very rocky, and he decided that rocks were meant to be climbed. So we spent a lot of time hunched over, holding his hands as he went up and down.

He also stepped in every puddle he could find, some deeper than his boots of course. He found a lot of treasures thanks to our new interest for geocaching – we really enjoyed it, and so did he. He dug in the sand and pebbles, he went up and down a ton of steps (mostly on hid dad’s back, but sometimes on his own two feet). He slept on a mattress on the floor of our bedroom, without bars to hold him in, and yet didn’t get up to make a mess all over the place. And he developed his vocabulary at an ever-impressing speed. I don’t know if it’s the contact of people other than us – my in-laws, who speak only English – but the trip also seems to have helped him differentiate between English and French. He would ask his grandma for water, then when I said I was the one who had the water, he would turn to me and say “de l’eau?”.

His favorite activity remained rock climbing. Set free in the middle of the beach, he would run towards the cliff (with mommy nearby – there was a cougar sighting in the area just a few days before) and start scaling it. And I’m not being facetious: although his attempts were not always met by success, he was really trying to climb some quite abrupt walls. We had to redirect his efforts to challenges that were more reasonable. But it was really cute to see him and to hear him repeat, after his daddy, “rock climber”.


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