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The Boy climbs the rock wall at a local outdoor store

Literally for years, every time we would walk into REI (a large outdoor gear and clothing store), The Boy would look at the huge indoor rock climbing wall and say, "Can I do that?"

And for years, we would walk over to the desk, where a line was marked with pen on the counter and a sign read, "Participants must be 48 inches tall to climb the rock wall." The Boy would make himself as tall as possible...but he didn't reach the line.

Until a couple of weeks ago. I was running in to pick up some last-minute supplies before our trip to Canada, and he asked so politely I couldn't say no.

Lo and behold, my baby has grown! It wasn't even close - he was at least an inch over the line this time!

So I dutifully paid the $5 climbing fee and he was off to pick out his shoes. He is still so little that the smallest rock-climbing shoes they had were two sizes too big. No matter - he tied them tightly, slipped into the harness, and was ready to climb.

He first assessed all of the different paths to the top and discussed with the attendant what all the ratings for each climb meant, and where he ought to start. Fortunately, he chose the easiest path - since this was his dream, I was going to let him choose whatever route he wanted, even if it wasn't the most appropriate.

With a big smile on his face, he started climbing. He took quick, large steps at first, but as the route became more technical, slowed down. He tested a step, then stopped and reconsidered.

I could practically see the gears turning in his brain as he tried to figure out where to put each of his limbs - two legs, two arms - in order to hoist himself up the rock. Little by little, he inched his way up.

He was three-quarters of the way there when he got stuck. He called down to the attendant and me, "I can't go any further!"

We made some suggestions, and he tentatively tried to climb a little further. But his confidence was shaken. He had gone as far as he felt comfortable, and he called down, "I'm ready to come down now!"

"Don't you want to make it all the way to the top?" I asked. "I know you can do it." (There I go, Type A Mom again.)

"No, I'm good," he said. And I believed him: he sounded satisfied with what he'd accomplished already.

The attendant belayed him down, and he quickly got his harness and shoes off. "So, what do you think?" I asked.

"It was awesome! Next time, when I'm bigger, I'm sure I'll make it to the top," he said. "But for now, that was just perfect."

Not a hint of unhappiness that he didn't touch the top. He was happy with how far he had pushed himself, and knew he'd improve in the future. Some mom-triathlete-snowboarder-software developer that I know might learn a thing or two from that.