Joey took his first stab at indoor rock climbing the other day. He's seven. I tried the same feat when I was, oh, twenty-something, and I came barreling down from great heights (there was a rope involved, don't worry) as tears spilled from my eyes. It wasn't fear that started my water works. It was physical exhaustion and frustration. I kept trying to use my arms to pull me up, you see, unaware at the time that my legs harnessed the power to propel me upward. Joey figured this out in no time. I'm the slow one.

I told Joey as he tackled the wall that he's stronger than me. "You're just saying that so I won't quit," he said. He's also smarter than me. He can detect psychological maneuvering in a second.

Really, Joey is stronger than me. I'm not so weak now, at the advanced age of 38, but it took me quite some time to believe I possess the physical know-how to master major challenges -- like ropes courses, whitewater rafting, snow-skiing, parasailing, a 5K, and yes, rock climbing. So it's such a pleasure to watch my growing boy excel in areas that will enrich both his mental and physical world.

We're off on a bike ride tonight, me and my guy. Something tells me I'll be trailing Joey the whole time.