Damn the torpedoes!

Ian is continually proving himself to be a problem solver, even if mortal peril is involved.

I came downstairs this morning to find Ian walking out of the kitchen with a cup in his hands. He said that he was thirsty, so he got it all by himself. But before he said that, I detected a momentary look on his face. One of those looks that says there's a bit more to the story that he's not telling me. Not quite surprise, not quite fear of getting in trouble, but maybe a sudden realization that the probability of retroactive parental approval is something less than 100%, so immediate distraction is required. Sort of like when someone walks in while you're wrapping their birthday present, except it's not their birthday, and you're not sure they'd want the gift you bought.

See, I couldn't remember leaving that particular cup on the counter. Last night I'd cleaned the kitchen pretty thoroughly, and I was sure all our cups were in the cabinet above the sink. What did he do, climb onto the counter somehow? Without falling into the sink?

Oh no. If only. Turns out that rather than ask us for help, he dragged a dining room chair into the kitchen, then stacked his child-sized chair on top of it so he could climb up and reach the cabinet. Being four years old, he'd left his improvised scaffolding intact instead of destroying the evidence.

When I saw how close he'd come to disaster, I emphatically warned him never to do such a thing again. Trouble is, I'm not sure he could hear me over his glowing pride at his accomplishment.

It's crazy how different kids can be. Ben would have called for us to get him a cup before he even looked to see if one was within reach. Annoying? Sure, sometimes. But at least I don't have to worry as much about him doing a header onto the kitchen floor. More frequent stress perhaps, but lower levels. It probably averages out in the end.