Stairs

I was feeling bad already, because I was leaving the kids with Keith for the weekend.
Then, B fell down the stairs, right in front of me.
I saw him crawl up the stairs on his knees, attempt to stand on the last stair, and then mis-step and fall backwards, hitting his head, and then sliding down on his back the whole way down to the last step.
I ran down and grabbed him up.
He cried a long time, and in between tears and gasps for breath, sobbed, "I just wanted someone to save me!"

Oh. My. Gosh.

Now I am feeling crappily (where'd that word come from?) worse.

Epilogue: He is fine. He peeled himself out of my arms, after a few minutes, and said his head was better.

More Epilogue: B made sure to report, as soon as I returned from my trip (no pun intended), that he lost his balance on the stairs again (what the heck!?), and his Papa didn't fail him. K caught the boy before he actually fell. "Papa caught me, and you didn't, mama."

Oh. Nice. Thanks for sharin', buddy! :)