Z: When last we left Teacher Dude and Adventure Boy, they were hanging perilously off the edge of a 1,000-foot precipice, nothing but air and the stench of fear between them and the jagged rocks of the canyon below. Meanwhile, the villainous Chicken Mom hid out in her evil lair down in …

She: I am not a villain.

Z: Are you a mom?

She: Yes.

Z: Are you a chicken?

She: Yes.

Z: I rest my case.

She: I’m a chicken with one egg in one basket, so I think I’m allowed a little, very reasonable fear when my only child goes rock climbing with his 12-year-old teacher.

Z: It was very safe.

She: Sure. What could be safer than going 100 feet up the face of Gibraltar Rock? Oh, I know. Not going 100 feet up the face of Gibraltar Rock.

Z: There were very impressive rope systems, and hardly anyone was very drunk.

She: Excuse me?

Z: I’m kidding. There were no ropes.

She: You …

Z: OK, there were ropes. Good ropes and a very safe-looking system. And cute moms doing the belaying, if you know what I mean.

She: Must … kill … husband …

Z: Really, the whole thing looked very safe, and like a great experience for the kids. Making it to the top of Gibraltar Rock is no small feat for a bunch of 10-year-olds.

She: But Adventure Boy already did it back when he had Teacher Dude in second grade. Cross that baby off your bucket list. I was there to witness it.

Z: So you’ve told me, many times.

She: Which in retrospect was a very bad idea. I think that was the beginning of my graying hair.

Z: So you’ve also told me, many times.

She: Oh, please.

Z: I think it was actually harder this time. Adventure Boy was over-thinking it instead of just going for it like he did last time.

She: Are you seriously trying to argue that it was easier for me to watch an inexperienced 7-year-old rock climber go up a 12,000-foot cliff than it was for you to watch an experienced 10-year-old hop up a few feet on a dirt clod?

Z: I don’t think Gibraltar Rock has changed that much. And really, I think the scariest thing was watching him walk down the mountainside path to the climbing spot.

She: Kind of like when you told me how scary it was for you to witness the pain of my giving birth, than it was for me to actually go through it.

Z: Yeah. That’s the analogy I was thinking of.

She: Not to mention that Teacher Dude is older and wiser now. He’s no longer 12.

Z: He’s got to be at least 15. He’s going to be a father in a couple months.

She: So Teacher Dude is about to become Teacher Dad. Do you think he’ll keep doing his rock climbing and paragliding and skiing and general trying-to-get-yourself-killed-kinds of things?

Z: Probably. There are going to be more time constraints, so having a kid will give him fewer opportunities to maim himself, but I’m guessing he keeps doing them.

She: I used to be a lot more willing to try scary stuff before I had kids, but I think it was just because I was younger. Now having Koss is a great excuse to be Wimpy Mom. It’s all about the kid.

Z: Even though I was never hugely adventurous, I was still pretty willing to jump out of planes or go down rivers for a while there. At least until I got stuck in the water for a little longer than I was comfortable with, and then decided that maybe I didn’t need to do that any more until Adventure Boy was old enough to be man of the house.

She: So you’re going to start rafting again when you’re 80.

Z: Definitely. Assuming the water gets a little warmer by then.

She: Yes, dear.

— When She and Z aren’t watching the boy in their life live dangerously, they can be reached by e-mailing leslie@lesliedinaberg.com.