bouldering
Luke and Pen are both under the weather today. Luke in particular seems to be feeling it (though he’s always in denial about his illnesses)–he’s running at about 60%-75%, I’d say. We went through our normal evening routine (take out trash, take out Maple, check mail, climb on the rocks) and he was well-nigh mute the whole way, totally focused on making through his evening routine at any cost.
Just like everywhere else we’ve lived, he and I go on walks, and inevitably half a dozen or so of the landmarks we encounter become “stations” we use to describe our route, and that we focus on. Setting off on a walk, we’ve had many exchanges of this nature:
Luke: “Daddy, are we going to go by the Regular Wheat and the Rocks today?”
Me: “Yes, and we’ll see the No-Mailboxes, the Fancy Wheat and the Gazebo too.”
“The Rocks” has become one destination we visit more regularly than the others. During the construction of the apartment complex, some earthmoving machines deposited a pile of sizable rocks and boulders at the end of one of the parking lots, and Luke’s favorite activity any given walk is to climb all over them. We actually call them “the Himalayas” and we’ve named a few in particular–there’s K2, Nanga Parbat and of course, Mount Everest. Our visits to the Rocks always culminate with his ascent of Mount Everest and subsequent jump down while holding my hand. Lately, we’ve actually named the “faces” of Mount Everest; today, for instance, he scaled the “north face” before jumping down. We have a good time.