Climbing the Walls

What the picture doesn't tell you is that this is a seven-foot gate.

Johnny Q has been experimenting with making his mother's hair turn white. Now I'm not overly concerned that he's a climber. I am too. What worried me was that I was in the kitchen busying myself with housewifely duties like making pumpkin cranberry loaf when I look out the window to smile fondly at my progeny and he's busy whipping up the gate to chase "Bad Bing Bing", the local ruffian cat who poops in my garden. Evil Cat Sam happens to look like our sweet kitty Bing Bing, but of course is evil, hence the moniker.. well, you get it.

So Mr Climby Pants has nearly mastered the gate. I'm going to have to slow him down with shoes. I don't mind that he can scale the wall -- he's Spider Man, after all. And he'll show you his Spidey gloves to prove it. It's just that darn it, I was getting used to him having a 'safe' place to play. Which mostly means he'll still be there when I put him there. Now that's gone and I have to put one of those invisible fence dog collars on him.

No wait, that's wrong. Right? Ooops.