The fool is me and the child is my son, 9 month old Trot. He had taken his afternoon nap, and was sitting in my lap while I was on the computer. He got fidgety, as all little babies do, and wanted down. I sat him down, picked up a flower he's always pulling over on him, put it up, and when I turned back around, all I saw was his foot turn the corner toward the stairs.
When I got to the stairs, he was already half way down, rolling like a barell. I don't remember how I got down the stairs, just that he and I reached the bottom at the same time. My wife, who had been laying down, was there to meet us. She told me later she heard me hollering, and when she looked up, I was in the air like some kind of deranged Superman. The fact that my back feels like I got hit with a 2x4 kinda supports the fact I did not get down the stairs in the conventional way.
He wasn't making a sound, and my wife thought the worst. But I had him cradled and could see his face: he was crying without making a sound. I guess the wind got knocked out of him, and in about a minute, he proceeded with the expected caterwauling. Except for a good little bump on his head, he doesn't seem any worse for wear.
His Mom and I, we're a different story. I shook for a good 30 minutes. If you're reading this and you have children, you know what I mean when I say I have NEVER been as scared for one of my children.
As 2006 ends tonight, I have alot to be thankful for: A great wife, 3 wonderful kids, a home, food to eat, and clothes to wear.
Most of all: I'm thankful that God watched over my child today. And that he takes care of fools.
And their little children.
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