Last week, I was in the secret room (what we call the storage room off of the top of our stairs) and found the giant boxes our car seats came in. We no longer have these car seats, so I saw no reason to save the boxes! I put one out on the landing and went back in to get the other. (Do you see where this is going?)
I was grabbing the other box when I heard a crash. I called Caleb's name, got no response, and ran out to see the box at the bottom of the stairs. I called his name again, a little more frantically this time, and he still didn't answer. I tore down the stairs and opened the flaps of the box to find him staring a little dazedly up at me, but otherwise fine. Matt came in from the kitchen to see what the commotion was, and we both checked to make sure that he was okay. He was scared and cried a bit, but he was alright.
Turns out, Caleb crawled into the box and sent it down the stairs. He said that it rolled a couple of times, and I believe him from the tangled mess of arms and legs he was when I got to him!
So what does Matt do? Send him down again!! (And for the record, lest you people think I'm an overprotective mother who won't let her kid just be a boy, Caleb didn't want to go! Matt made him! I'm not Mean Mommy, he's Mean Daddy!) At least this time, made sure the box slid down the stairs instead of rolling.