Hiking along the trail, steps behind my toddler, his two older brothers and dad just around the bend ahead, he stopped and sized up the rock in front of him. It came to his chest and he studied it for a bit. I stood, sipping my water and letting him think. ‘Mama I thinks we need to climb around this big guy!’
‘Ok, baby, let’s do it!’
He propped his little size 9 hiking boot up on the slope around the rock, threw his weight forward and climbed around it. I stayed at the bottom ready to catch him if it went badly. He stood at the top, now just a tad taller than me, arms reaching to the sky and shouted ‘Mama! I did it! I am a big rock climber! Mama! Look how tall I am up here!’ He was elated and his joy was shining the rest of the hike up. He had problem solved. He had used his body. He had conquered something he didn’t feel capable of. He was proud.
We stopped at the top to have a picnic and rest. I dished out hummus and fruit and we sat enjoying the views that seemed to stretch on forever. Eventually it was time to hike back down so we packed up our stuff, took a few pictures and headed back to the trail.
For most toddlers the hike back down is actually harder. They have a tendency to run and lose their footing, jump when they shouldn’t and slide on rocks because their little bodies lack refined control. This day was no exception. He slipped and landed on his bottom more than once, he wasn’t hurt but it wounded the pride he’d developed on the hike up. It dampened his confidence. Along came another hiker, he tried to wait patiently even though I told him we were happy to let him pass. He watched anxiously as I let my youngest try to figure out how to climb down another big rock. I was less than a foot from him explaining that we could go around it or climb down, that I would do whichever he felt would work for him. The man who I’d tried to wave around us couldn’t hold it in any longer, ‘Here buddy, I can help you down’
