The Stairmaster

Instead of working out like I should be, I am procrastinating. (Don't fret KY and Erin. I'm still going to workout tonight.)

This afternoon, Preslyn embarked on an exciting journey-- climbing the stairs.

For the past several days, Preslyn has become preoccupied with the bottom stair of the staircase. She climbs up the first step, sits, and turns around to look out at the world. We've been trying help her climb to step two and eventually step three. (Big mistake!) As I was sitting by the fire, I noticed  Preslyn crawling to the stairs. Glancing back, after what seemed like only two seconds later, I saw she was heading for step four. I flew up to try and save her from a nasty tumble; however, I found myself trying to find that balance between startling her and getting her attention. Disaster averted as she sat down on step three and clapped for herself.

Of course, Doug wanted to see this action, since he was in the kitchen and missed my near heart-attack. We made mistake number two when we tried to see how many steps she would crawl up with me hovering closely behind. She booked it up the entire flight of stairs with her family cheering her on. It was quite the exciting moment for little Preslyn. And of course, we repeated this process a few times.

In the education world, we call the GRR or the Gradual Release of Responsibility. (Work is haunting me. It's quite sad that this actually popped into my head.) We typically rejoice when students can complete a difficult task on their own after much scaffolding, modeling, and guiding.

In the case with Preslyn, however, it isn't so pleasant. She has turned into a climbing machine. I eventually got tired of climbing up and down the stairs, protecting her at all cost. So I slid the ottoman over and blocked the entry way of the stairs. She was not pleased and started jabbering all kinds of fourteen month-old speak.

She quickly got over it when Madi and Braelyn started dancing in the living room. Five minutes later, she started climbing on her music play station. (This is not a sturdy toy meant for climbing by any means.) Doug had to rescue her as she found herself in a panic, balancing on her knees between a four-note keyboard and a little guitar. Innocent baby turned dare-devil.

Preslyn might be ready to scale the stairs, but we aren't.