It happened. We lived.

So, the kid fell down the stairs last night. Two days before the gate is going to be put back! He's nothing if not timely. I believe he inherited that quality from his dad who often says the most inappropriate thing about three seconds before he realizes he's talking aloud. I've been worrying that he's going to fall down the stairs for the past two months that the gate's been gone for the construction. Yet again, I am so very glad that my mom can't remember the name of my blog.

It all went down in total slo mo. I was standing at the top of the stairs getting ready to accompany him on his five thousandth climb of the day down the mighty flight. Is a stairmaster a good second birthday present? Nothing pleases my son more than the up/down. Just as I was about to grab his hand, he suddenly lost his balance and topped over. And over. And over. He was basically doing the most awkward cartwheels ever, heels over head. Of course, I shrieked hysterically probably scaring him far more than the fall did. Thankfully, he didn't go flying down the whole way and caught himself at the landing. He cried LOUDLY for about two minutes straight. That was an eternity while we examined him and tried to decide if we should take him to the emergency room (I will never forget Natasha Richardson for teaching us all about hematomas). He was laughing and playing with the dog food about thirty seconds later so we opted to take a wait and see approach rather than drag him through the horror of an ER visit. And so far today he seems absolutely fine, if a little overly interested in cheese.

Fall down the stairs? Check.

Lost kid + injured kid = Parent of the year over here.

Nothing a little Houston's spinach dip can't cure...