My worst fear of living in our house has always been that one of the kids would fall down on our tile stairs. And last night, my fear came true.
CF has always said that R would never go downstairs by himself and she did not like having the baby gate at the top of the stairs (so it was always only left at the bottom of the stairs. Well, last night, R must have been excited with all of the toys he had received and was in a rush to play. He misstepped and fell down from the top step down to the landing. I heard CF scream and R cry while I was in the kitchen cooking. I ran upstairs being so scared for R and so angry at CF for not watching R go downstairs and for not letting me put the gate at the top of the stairs. I was so emotional (angry and scared) that I started crying and could not stop for half an hour. (I was reminded that I had not cried like that since a few years ago when CF inserted a thermometer into A's vagina instead of her anus to take her temperature. A was just a few months old and I was furious with CF that she didn't know the difference between a vagina and an anus, and I was so scared that she had hurt my baby and maybe "deviginized" her)
R seemed a little shaken up but not injured. I examined him as best as I could while balling my eyes out. I hugged him tightly. I just kept thinking that in that instant that he fell, he could have been seriously injured or died... I hate the stairs and don't know why people would ever make stairs of tile or hardwood. They should all be carpeted with thick foam!
After hugging R as much as I could, I immediately went to work moving the baby gate to the top of the stairs so this does not happen again. I still get emotional thinking that I could have lost my little boy. Maybe it is because CF lost her grandfather last week (and her grandmother this morning).
Right now I am sitting in A's room while she's napping. And I am hearing R laughing and being playful downstairs with CF. I am thankful for my family.
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