Little has a terrifying new habit. He climbs everything, and I mean everything. Bookshelves, tables, chairs, stools, his bed... you name it, he has been on top of it. I am torn between being proud of him for not being afraid to even look down the slide let alone go down it and wanting him to go back to the nervous little boy he was so that I don't have to panic every two seconds about what he's about to jump off of next. 
Just today, he got suspiciously silent so I poked my head into his room and found him grinning mischievously from atop the changing table with a diaper and schnoozle (our name for those weird nose sucker things) in his hand. Our changing table isn't the strongest in the world, so naturally I was terrified and scolded him soundly. I thought it had done the job until I again heard silence and came in to find him perched on the top of his bookshelf reading a book. He looked up and saw me and immediately yelled, "Down! Everett!" Life officially just got a bit more terrifying.