There's a story my mother told me once when I was a child about when I was a newborn baby. I'm glad she told me, since my own memory of the event was slightly foggy.
She was downstairs resting in front of the TV, and I was upstairs in my crib for a nap. She said she'd only left me for a moment, but she heard a sound and turned to find me near the top of the stairs looking down at her between the railing.
She screamed, and I reacted by running toward her--off the edge of the landing.
I landed easily on my feet and continued running. "Mama, what's wrong?" I asked as I came up to her. She grabbed me and hugged me and started gibbering in a mix of Spanish and English.
My parents put up those gates you use to keep babies from wandering off or falling down the stairs, but they proved to be more of an obstacle for them than for me and soon they stopped bothering.
She was downstairs resting in front of the TV, and I was upstairs in my crib for a nap. She said she'd only left me for a moment, but she heard a sound and turned to find me near the top of the stairs looking down at her between the railing.
She screamed, and I reacted by running toward her--off the edge of the landing.
I landed easily on my feet and continued running. "Mama, what's wrong?" I asked as I came up to her. She grabbed me and hugged me and started gibbering in a mix of Spanish and English.
My parents put up those gates you use to keep babies from wandering off or falling down the stairs, but they proved to be more of an obstacle for them than for me and soon they stopped bothering.
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