Stair Scare


A self-proclaimed klutz, the fall I had yesterday was no surprise. Combine wooden stairs with a love of fuzzy socks and I’m amazed it didn’t happen sooner.
Swollen wrist and bruised ego aside, I’m fine. But as I lay on the landing in a ball, I cried through big baby tears, “I could’ve…sob sob…broken my… sob, sob….neck.”
My friend Laura tobogganed down her staircase on her rear more than once, while my pal Sarah holds the current record for stair surfing, gaining extra points for breaking her bum, twice. {And her stairs are carpeted!} The two of them seem to be competing in some kind of painful stairing contest.
Did you know Queen Victoria, as a young woman was forbidden to set foot on any stairs without holding someone’s hand, for fear she could fall? Historical fact. Look it up {or just watch “Young Victoria” starring Emily Brunt like I did}.
The joke in our house is that our daughter is the “Victoria” of our manor. She is never allowed on
the stairs without her hand held or at least someone flanking her from the rear. Unpredictable seizures, moments of dizziness and a delay in over-all gross motor skills justify such caution.
Lately however, we’ve been allowing her a little more independence; occasionally letting her climb the stairs on her own.
Well, after my near neck snapping, I’m more fearful of her falling, now more than ever. If somebody as sure footed as I (ha!) could stumble…
Staircase injuries are no joking matter obviously. Out of curiosity I Googled, “Stair related deaths or injuries in Canada.” Wish I hadn’t done that. Lotta deaths via stairwell. Stupid Google. I hate you and your instant access to scary information.
So we’re back to hand holding and flanking. At least until we can afford to get our stairs carpeted.
I have my eye on a lovely oatmeal coloured super soft and cushiony *berber…
*When I say the word berber aloud, it’s in an Alfred Hitchcocky murder mystery voice like this; “Berrrrrbah.” It’s possible I may have actually bumped my head when I fell….

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