Ray built a climbing wall in our house, in the garage-converted-to-an-office that he’s now turning into a “Man Cave.”

The girls adore the wall. And he loves teaching them to climb.

I really like the photo above, of Sophie making it to the top in her PJs (don’t worry, Ray is right under her, and there’s a thick pad on the ground, too) but my favorite is this one, of him helping her down.

Good thing I was off eating tofu last night with my dear friend Trish, because I’m a big chicken when it comes to the kids taking risks.

I’ve grown accustomed to seeing Annabelle scamper to the top of the wall at the rock gym around the corner from our house, but I wasn’t prepared for the email that popped up as I was getting ready to leave Trish’s last night. The subject line was: “Sophie can climb” but on the small iPhone screen it looked like that was Annabelle halfway up the wall.

Everyone was alseep by the time I got home.

“Hey!” I stage whispered, and Ray rolled over. “That wasn’t Sophie in that photo, was it?!”

“Yes!” And back to sleep he went. This morning he offered more photographic proof, taken by Annabelle while he belayed the world’s newest rock climber. Up until last night, Sophie would do one move (which would get her about three inches off the ground) and stop. Last night was a breakthrough. I’ll shut up and let you enjoy the pictures.