Clunk, Clunk, Clunk...

Jacob has been perfecting his stair climbing - a welcome skill as he is very heavy to cart up and down long flights. Recently, we removed the baby gate at the bottom of the stairs to the bedrooms - another welcome change as climbing over it was becoming tiresome (and there were times when I swear I pulled a muscle in a strange place trying to hoist myself over it while simultaneously twisting to avoid the collection of toys that had been thrown over it). You can probably see where this is going...

So tonight, I went upstairs to get the bath ready and Jacob was following me. He has gone up and down those stairs many, many times without incident. I continued ahead and was in his room when I heard an awful "clunk". In the millisecond between that first clunk and the successive series of clunks, I already knew in my heart what was happening.

Clunk, clunk, clunk (oh, how many steps was he going to fall?), and finally a thunk. And then wails. My heart racing, I looked down that long flight of stairs to see my poor baby sprawled at the bottom. To make matters worse, he knew I was to blame because he didn't even want me to hold him. He just wanted his daddy. The innocent party. The non-negligent parent.

In the end, he was fine. And it turns out the only thing bruised was my heart.