Oh my stars. I'm not going to make it.

He's not even 2 yet. Heck, he's not even 15 months old yet. He's such an unassuming little tyke. At least with Poodle, we knew she was fearless almost from day one. Tooter, however, didn't strike me as quite so gung-ho'esque.

Hmmph. Apparently, I have a lot to learn about my dear boy.

Or maybe I just have a lot to learn about boys, period.

So, we're outside yesterday afternoon, taking advantage of the briefly warmer weather. The kids are running around willy nilly and I'm pooper scooper'ing the yard. (tmi? sorry.) Anyway, I spot check Tooter, and he's engaged in investigating a pine cone. I scoop, and turn back around barely 10 seconds later, and he's halfway up the stairs that lead to the decking at the top of the slide part of the swing set.

Oh good heavens.

So I go running to the swing set and spot him the rest of the way up, and help him slide down. We do this at least a million times and he finally gets interested in something else.

He comes back for a few more sliding sessions, and then he takes off for one of the palm trees. I take advantage of the moment, and sit down at the laptop that I brought outside an hour earlier, to get some work done on the Junior Miss script.

I swear - I think he must have Star-Trek-transported himself back to the swingset, because I really was paying attention. Or at least I thought I was.

I look up, and the boy has climbed all the way up the stairs and is sitting in the upper deck-thing of the swingset, trying to position himself to slide down the slide. Oh. My. Gravy.

The blasted thing is, what, 4 1/2 something feet off the ground?

I won't tell you what all went through my mind. Praise the Lord nothing happened to him - although I'm not entirely sure my heart has gone back into rhythm yet.

Playtime outside this summer is sure to be an adventure. I think I'll need Prozac!