Yes, he did. First he pulled the chair over to the window so that he could climb up and rearrange his window stickers. Then he pulled the chair over to the kitchen prep table to get the crystal vase to put the extra stickers in. Then he pulled the chair over to the bookcase so that he could attempt to climb the last few feet necessary to reach the soccer ball, the football, and the linen spray. Though when he discovered that the linen spray wasn't just another delivery vessel for apple juice he put that one back. We're screwed.
Yes, we've been aiming for the all important 36 inch mark for months now in preparation for our visit to the happiest place on Earth (which up till now I could've sworn was the mid-mountain brewery at Bridger Bowl Ski Resort in Bozeman, MT but apparently I've been mistaken all these years) but with his recently enhanced ingenuity he's capable of reaching far greater heights than a measly 36 inches. Sure he's been climbing the walls for months at this point, but he's now strong enough to stack things on top of those walls - as in actually lift things up to build a ladder of sorts as though he's trying to escape through the ceiling.
We try to harness this genius and guide it to more productive activities, but truth be told there just aren't that many ways for a two year old to safely explore climbing unless they're harnessed to a bungee cord in a room lined with marshmallows. So, he now has a climbing harness and dad will be introducing him to the local climbing gym and then the local climbing rock which will surely one day lead to an interest to climb other rocks which will eventually land him in Bozeman, MT thereby infecting him with the same delusion his parents have been suffering since our university years... That the mid-mountain brewery at Bridger Bowl Ski Resort is the happiest place on Earth.
Until then (the many many years from now kind of then), his mind will be resting peacefully on images of the generally accepted as true happiest place on Earth. Which, much to daddy's chagrin does not include the ability to "safely" climb to the peak of a 16,000 ft mountain or enjoy beer/soda/nachos mid-mountain after a day of launching off of the side of cliffs into humongous fields of white powdery goodness. I'm starting to think that the "we're screwed" part of this story is all daddy's fault to begin with...