You know, whichever.
I took M to a new indoor playground today. It's one of those places with several large bounce houses, where the kids can careen madly around and generally wear themselves out. I started out trying to steer M towards the nice, safe tot area, where the bounce house was filled with small, safe things on which to climb. She was interested for all of thirty seconds, then she glanced at the next bounce house over, her eyes widened, and she said "Mama, I want that one!"
That one was an obstacle course made for kids much older than M. It had a little wall with climbing blocks, followed by another wall without climbing blocks, followed by a ginormous, steep wall, up which the kids could climb and then come down via a similarly steep, similarly ginormous slide. I let M give it a shot, figuring she'd poop out at the first wall and she'd be done with it. I certainly didn't think she'd make it even close to the big wall (which was at least double my height, so a good 10-12 feet tall, minimum).
I should have known never to underestimate my little girl. She climbed the first wall like it was nothing. The smooth wall gave her some pause, and it looked as if she was going to be stuck. But she just sat back, watched some of the bigger kids make it over, and copied what they did.
At this point, I was still in denial. There was no way she'd make it up the big wall. And indeed, she seemed intimidated. She started to cry as one big kid after another passed her (or in some cases, stepped on her), but then she calmed down, squared her shoulders, and began climbing. And climbing. And climbing. My heart was in my throat the entire time as I watched, terrified that M wouldn't make it up the wall, but equally terrified that she would.
She made it. And oh my, the look on her face as she came hurtling down the slide, faster and farther than she'd ever gone before. Her little face just glowed with excitement and pride in what she'd just managed to do. At that moment, I forgot my fears, and gave in to her joy.