The View Up Here

I like being on the roof. Maybe that could have been one of the things I listed about myself when I was tagged, but I don't like that game; I do, however, like the roof.
I was up there yesterday taking down the Christmas lights (72 degrees in January, thank you global warming) and enjoying the view. The roof is a solitary place, where you can be alone with your thoughts as you gain a new perspective that "street level" just doesn't give you. At night you can climb up and contemplate the cosmos seeing the whole horizon of stars, instead of just the half view that a front or back yard has to offer.
Yesterday, for the first time, the solitude of the roof was threatened. Morty Jr asked if he could go up on the roof with me to help remove the lights. I was hesitant as I considered his request. He's only 5, and apt to wander without being aware that he may be in a dangerous predicament, he also doesn't listen very well, only peeking interest as my yells become frantic. He's eager to help with the lights, which are right at the edges of the roof, and he'll probably want to peer over the edge, especially from the peak over the driveway. He also likes to yell and wave to people passing in the street, a guaranteed way to gain unwanted attention as over eager busy bodies with child services on speed dial look up in aghast at the unfit father who would allow his child to be placed in such a dangerous situation.
All of these thoughts passed my mind as I stood on the fence, grabbing him by one arm and swinging him up onto the roof. I decided to give him some stern instructions, and impart to him all the knowledge that I had gained by wandering around on rooftops. "Don't move."
Walking across a pitched roof with a 5 year old attached to your leg is exactly as unbalanced as you think it is. And so keeping him at arms reach, where I could hold him but he couldn't trip me, we worked our way to the apex and I sat him down at two converging angles where the chances of rolling off to one side or the other were minimized. There I shared the view with my son, who was awed to see the dog two streets down, the water tower a mile away, the shoes hanging on the power lines, and the missionaries riding their bikes in the next neighborhood over. There he sat, yelling at cars and kids passing, while I plucked the lights from their little plastic hooks, constantly yelling back at him to stop moving and sit down.
Alas, our adventure on the roof had to come to an end. The lights were all down and I needed to wrap them up and put them back in their boxes. Good thing Mrs. Morty can catch, made getting down a lot faster.