We’ve reached that difficult impasse where Nate and I have a difference of opinion.
He wants to crawl up the steps.
And I don’t want him to tumble down more than a dozen hard wood stairs onto even harder tile.
So, like his three older siblings before him, he waits for his chance.
And when I’m busy with those three older siblings, he races for glory of the stairs.
Three steps up, I drag him down, kicking and screaming.
If we’re all feeling particularly happy, this might involve tickling and giggling.
If we’re not, this might involve whining and kicking.
Then I set him down and distract him with his brother’s soccer ball or sisters’ purse.
Until I’m distracted with one of those people.
And he’s off for the stairs.
