Stairs

We have stairs in our teeny apartment. This is not to say we have two floors; our front door opens on an entryway that is just big enough to put a bike, a stroller, a dead plant, and some muddy shoes. You look straight up the stairs into the living room. Sortof. It's a little hard to explain. Anyway, we got a baby gate for the top of the stairs. Cara likes to play there. She stands up next to the gate and looks down, and sometimes sings. Since her bookcase is aslo at the top of the stairs, she sits there and pulls her books and toys down and has spent many an hour entertaining herself there. I usually sit at the computer and keep an ear on her, but don't monitor her terribly closely. It's all baby safe, right?

This morning, for whatever reason, the gate wasn't closed before I set Cara down. I don't usually have to worry about it, and so I didn't even think about it. I set her down and went about my usual routine of blog reading, email checking, and game playing.

Suddenly I noticed... Cara was in the corner, and had been unusually quiet. I looked over and saw the gate wide open and Cara sitting at the top of the stairs, looking down quite solemnly. I jumped up and she looked over at me as if to say, "Mom, what's that? It's never been like that before..." Needless to say, I immediately fixed the situation and gave Cara a more suitable toy to play with than stairs with tile at the bottom.

And now that I've had my heart attack for the day, it's about time for breakfast.