They had recently taken over the entire house and were in to EVERYTHING. Not coincidentally, it's just about the time that I started to develop gray hairs.
I was in the kitchen. They were in the playroom.
I heard hustle and bustle of two one-year-olds. And then I heard silence.
I walked in to the playroom, not knowing what I'd find.
What I found was M, all askew, diaper bum stuck in the air, with her head stuck between two bannisters in the stairway going upstairs.
H just stared at her knowing, I think, that something was quite wrong but clearly couldn't articulate that things had gone awry. They had been having such a great time only moments ago. Things had been going so well.
I ran downstairs and grabbed the saw and sawed the child out of the bannister.
This was just one of the many times that I realized that parenting was really not possible without a good stash of wine readily available.
It WAS almost noon.
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