See these stairs? They are wooden. And slippery. And you shouldn't wear socks on them. And you shouldn't be 21 months old wearing socks and walking down them.
This afternoon, we could have lost Colin. I know I have a flair for the dramatic, but y'all. These are some seriously steep stairs, and a lot of them.
He fell from the top.
To the bottom.
I was standing a few feet from the bottom of the steps, cutting out some appliques in the next room. Kevin was standing at the top of the steps with Colin, just about to pick him up when he turned to shut the door.
That's when Colin fell.
He rolled down the steps, gaining more and more momentum. I came running and got there just in time to see him hit a step about four up from the bottom and bounce hard enough off of it that he just spun in the air three more times until he landed forehead first into the baseboard at the bottom. I couldn't catch him. I just barely missed him, but I did. I missed him.
I knew to run because I heard Kevin screaming.
I've never heard Kevin scream before.
Colin is fine. Bruised. Multiple knots. He will be fine.
But I never ever want to see my child falling like that again though. Out of control. Out of reach. It was terrifying.
I asked him later if he was scared, and he told me, "No ghost, Mama. No ghost." I guess that means he wasn't scared. He's a little hard to translate sometimes.
He did walk around the rest of the evening patting his head and saying, "Bump. Bump."
Tomorrow: gates. One on top, One on bottom.
Thank you, God, for cushioning that ride my baby took and keeping him safe. It really could have gone another way quite easily.
