Mornings are never fun at my house. While my daughters are both extremely cute and generally quite sweet. When first awoken they resemble surly teenagers trapped inside the bodies of angry little elves.
But today was extra fun - it began with a bang. My three year-old took a tumble down the stairs as we were getting ready to leave the house. I’m not sure how she did it. I was in the kitchen. I heard a thud, and then a rumble and I got to the stairwell just in time to see her hit the bottom. She cried a little but said she was fine. We checked her for bumps and blood, gave her an ice pack, and she was fine.
It was scary as hell and the second time one of the kids has fallen down the stairs in the last year. In both cases they were fine and in both cases we couldn’t have done much to prevent the falls. I’m not saying you shouldn’t put gates at the top and bottom of your stairs, I’m just saying they won’t stop every fall.
So while my daughter began her day by tumbling down the stairs, I on the other hand, began my morning with a 2.2 mile run on a treadmill (the longest distance I have run since doing my first 5K in September).
And while my daughter felt fine a few minutes after falling down an entire set of stairs,) I feel like I’m walking around on knees filled with the little gravel that goes in the bottom of fish tanks. And since I live with two little girls, I envision knees filled with pink and purple gravel.
Oh to be a kid again. I'm not asking to be able to fall down the stairs without a scratch. But it would be nice to do a short run without feeling like my joints are filled with small rocks.