"Sometimes my son climbs on it, but otherwise I haven't found much use for it."

One friend of mine said her 30-year-old son had climbed onto the roof after the attacks and begun wailing.

Without trying to dissuade them, the fathers acknowledged they worried when their sons climbed into cars.

And I saw my son, Jonathan, climbing on to the black leather seat with all the confidence of an angel.

So the king's son climbed the mountain, pulled out his three golden hairs, and struck them with the latchstring.

Once my son climbed so high, he couldn't climb down.

Finally, my son and I climbed back into the truck and headed home.

The father directs his young son, Grendel, to climb down and hide from the attackers' view.

One day, his 5-year-old son climbed onto the drummer's stool and began pounding out a beat.

Her teenage son climbed onto the table, ski boots and all, to join his dancing father.