We were getting ready to leave in the morning and, as usual, I open the gate and grab our bags. Normally, he scoots over to the stairs and begins his decent.
This day was different. He decided to walk right down them - and made it to the first step where he turned around to give dad that "Did you see what I just did?!" look of amazement. Next thing I know, he topples over and face plants the first step and (thankfully) rolls on his side down the next 3 stairs. He manages to stop himself before landing on the wood floor.
Anna's Version of What Happened Next:
I am doing what I normally do - freeze in a state of panic and stare. In my head I kept saying "Ohmygawd he's falling, ohmygawd he's falling, ohmygawd he's falling" but I wasn't going anywhere.
So Fred yells at me something to the effect of "Why did you throw him down the stairs?" to which I responded by crying. Still frozen. Then he said something like "Well, don't just let him cry - pick him up!" Still frozen, I manage to look at Fred and say "Why are you yelling at me?" Fred picked him up and I got myself a drink. Of water, not vodka - we were on our way to work after all.
Now, if you talk to Fred his version might have slight variations (slight, right Grandma Judy?)
At any rate - here's a picture of the aftermath:
Next step was taking him on into daycare where I told Miss Haley what happened. I felt like such an 'After School Special' trying to say he got his black eye from falling down the stairs (isn't that the story?) but it's true, I swear.
Not much remains of the massacre today, thankfully.
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