Daredevil in a Diaper

Over the past couple of years or so, a good deal of our time has been spent protecting ourselves from Isaac. Rule #1 around here: Never turn your back on him. If you do, you may find yourself, as I did a few days ago, on the receiving end of a "pirate sword" that is actually a tree limb about 6 feet long and 3 inches in diameter. All I heard was, "Aye aye, Captain!", and the next thing I knew, I was lying, sprawled on my stomach, across the front yard.

But things have changed in the last few weeks. And I'm not so sure it's for the better. Instead of protecting ourselves from this wild child, it's all we can do to protect him from himself. He has become this fearless, impulsive daredevil constantly perched, ready to jump or "skateboard" off some high spot he's monkey-climbed his way to. And, no, he doesn't own a skateboard. But this hasn't stopped him from jumping on anything with wheels and declaring it a skateboard.

Please tell me this is a phase and will quickly pass. My nerves can't take much more. One of us is going to end up in a padded room.