Clop, scrape, clop, scrape, silence... My sleeping unconscious waited for the other shoe to drop. It didn't. My only-slightly awake conscious then assumed the shoe-drop waiting role. It didn't. I bolted from bed and looked over the railing and there was Quinn, standing on the second stair, grinning up at me. It just takes a few seconds of distraction and he's somewhere he shouldn't be.
Today we're installing another gate, at the bottom of the stairs.
The Dark Side of Perfectionism
10 years ago
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