1 Mother 2 Another

Last week I spent some time with each girl
individually, doing whatever fun thing she wanted for a special day
together. For Cora, I suggested rock climbing; she’s always
been instinctively athletic and coordinated, and it was something I
thought she’d enjoy. I mentioned the idea to Cora, who
considered it, then vetoed the plan in favor of a trip to our
city’s indoor water park.


The waterpark, I should mention, is in the same building as the
city’s fitness center, which has, you guessed it, a rock
wall. So after we had a fun few hours playing in the pool area,
Cora and I sat on a bench and enjoyed a snack while we watched
someone climbing. After a few minutes, Cora said thoughtfully,
“Is it too late to do rock climbing too?”


Always wanting to encourage my kids to do new things, I said,
“Nope!” and we cheerfully raced home to get her
sneakers. Twenty minutes later Cora was being tightened into the
world’s smallest harness and clipped to the on-staff belayer.
Belaying guy? Not sure what the real title is there. At any rate,
Cora was snugged up, and she began to climb.

Let me tell you, perhaps I am prejudiced
here, but I have never seen anyone climb as well as that kid did.
She was a little monkey, gliding up that wall. She’d get
about ten feet up, pause for a few minutes, and then call,
“Down,” her signal to be rappelled down. After she did
this three times in a row, I asked, “Cora, are you coming
down because the height makes you nervous, or for another
reason?”


Cora stared at me like a simpleton. “I’m coming down
because I can’t figure out where to go from there and I need
to start over.”


O-kay.


“If that’s the case,” I suggested, “you can
simply hang out where you are while you figure it out. Take your
time, look around, and you’ll find a path eventually.”


Seven minutes later Cora rang the bell at the top of the 30-foot
wall.


And then did it again. Eight more times.


The safety guy said, “So she does a lot of climbing,
huh?” I shook my head. “This is her first time.”


He nodded understandingly. “Well, you can see she’s
picked up a lot from watching you or your husband do a lot of
climbs.” I shook my head. “We’ve never climbed in
our lives.”


He stared at her. Then he said, “Well, she’s really
good. She’s really good.”


I let Cora climb for an hour, then insisted we leave for dinner. As
we walked out, the rope guy said, “Maybe next time
you’ll try one of the harder routes!”


Cora’s head whipped around. Harder route? There was a harder
route she hadn’t tried? She sobbed the whole way home, right
until I promised we’d come back after dinner and she could
climb some more. Which we did. For almost another hour.


That was on Friday. Guess what we did on Saturday? Cora immediately
hit the hardest course on the wall, where the holds were almost as
far apart as she was tall, and the wall slanted back so she was
bent backwards. Cora would reach about fifteen feet and then have
to give up, and you could tell it frustrated the tar out of her.
She conquered the other routes, though, and when we left the safety
guy smiled and said, “See you again soon, Cora!”


We took a break on Sunday, but were back Monday afternoon. After
getting signed in, Cora walked to the wall and waited for her rope
partner. When someone new walked out, she said, “Are you my
rope guy?”


He smiled and nodded. “I am. Are you used to seeing
Scott?”


She nodded, and eyed him with undisguised skepticism.


His smile widened. “Don’t worry, I’ve been doing
this for a long time, I promise.”


She sized him up a moment longer, then nodded decisively.
“Ok, I’d like to warm up on the blue route once or
twice, then try to work out what I’m doing wrong on the
advanced route. Sound good?”


He nodded dumbly.


Cora is besotted. She begs to climb every day. She asks if
there’s a rock-climbing class she can take. (For
five-year-olds? Nope. Trust me, I’ve looked.) And she’s
already said that she hopes that rock climbing will be added to the
Olympics by the time she’s an adult, and that she will be the
world’s first rock-climbing ballerina.


We watched a documentary on Yosemite this summer, and this weekend
Cora brought it up. “How old do you think I need to be to try
El Capitan?”


Look out, Mount Everest. Your days are numbered.