Skinny; Poison Ivy

My dad says I'm getting tall and skinny, which I kind of like.  I can now see onto the top of the dining room table when I'm standing on the floor, which makes eating a lot less of a crap shoot; I mean, I can see what I'm reaching for now.  This is good!

There are, however, some "downsides" to this newfound height of mine:  this evening I stumbled just a bit and hit my upper lip and gum onto the corner of the dresser in my room.  This wouldn't have happened if I were shorter or if I weren't walking yet.  I have a lot to learn in order to be safe in this world.

My mom and dad keep talking about something called "poison ivy" outside, but I don't know what it is or why they care about it.  All the plants and vines look very interesting to me, and I like to pull on them just like I see my parents do.  Whenever I help, though, they make me stop take a step back.  Just to be sure, I try to help them again.  And they make me stop and step back again.  After about six times trying to help them, I just want to cry.  So I do.  Then they usually give me a truck to play with, or maybe tell me to go sit in the sandbox.  I like that, too, so I go play there.  Something weird is going on with all these vines, though.  I want to understand.