My eight-year-old daughter spends more time upside down than right side up.
Cartwheels, backbends, flips…and then there are the handstands. I’ve got footprints on every eye-level wall in this house. I feel like I’m living in a gymnasium.
I can’t say I didn’t see it coming. As a pre-schooler, Anya’s favorite activity was shimmying up the inside of a doorway with her hands and feet. I’d walk into a room to find her hanging out up at the ceiling, suspended like a spider. We almost lost a few babysitters over that one.
She’s also quite the escape artist. Anya was the only one of our three kids who managed to climb out of her crib (her older brothers being too lazy and/or rotund to free themselves). Another time, her dad and I made the mistake of walking out the kitchen when she was in the high chair; within minutes, she had slithered out of the belt, motored across the table and was literally hanging from the chandelier. Naturally, she hated to be confined; I had to muscle her in to her car seat every day. After one mighty struggle I looked back to see that–while technically still buckled in–she’d unlatched the entire seat from the car, effectively turning herself into a human projectile. (more…)