Down the Steps
A warm greeting to all who have ventured upon my little piece of cyberspace. Today's post deals with something many folks have done, and something I care to never do again...falling down the stairs.
We had 13 steps leading to our upstairs. The only rooms upstairs were my bedroom and Sir Gattabout's bedroom. However, there was a small landing that connected the doorways of the two rooms. It was about four feet by four feet.
This became a major battle zone for my toy soldiers. I would sit on the steps and direct the armies. Occasionally Gattabout would join in, but most of the time he simply antagonized by "accidentally" knocking the soldiers over as he passed through. I spent many an hour at my command center.
One day, Dad was coming upstairs (I don't remember why). I was sitting on the steps as I normally did. I quickly evacuated my troops to make a clear path for Dad to walk. Just as he got to the step beneath where I was sitting, he got dizzy (part of his ongoing heart problems) and started to fall backwards. Since there were no handrails, he reached out for something (anything) to grab onto to catch himself. He grabbed hold of me.
Since he was bigger and heavier than I was, I quickly joined him in the plunge down the stairs. We both rolled tail over teakettle down the steps. Dad ended up in a heap at the bottom of the stairs. I landed headfirst in the trashcan that was kept at that particular location. Once Dad got his wits about him, he fished me out of the can. I can't help but say that I was probably the best thing that he ever picked out of the trash. Luckily, neither of us were seriously hurt.
Have you ever fallen down the stairs?