Sam is finally mobile. He isn't crawling...it's more of a scoot...but with one leg dragging behind a bit. Kinda Quasimodo-esque. But it works for him, and he can get where he wants to go. Problem is, we aren't completely used to that yet.
After dinner yesterday, Alex, Sam, and Travis were in the living room. Travis and Alex were having a war with the balls from Sam's new ball pit, and I assumed Sam was innocently watching them. I assumed that until I heard a loud THUNK immediately followed by Sam crying. I came into the living room just as Travis's head was disappearing DOWN THE STAIRS. So naturally, I added to the situation by shouting, "DID HE JUST FALL DOWN THE STAIRS?!?!" Even though I was clearly aware of the situation, I couldn't stop myself from asking. And the alarm in my voice signaled Alex to instantly become concerned, so he started repeatedly asking if Sammy was ok. Travis's response to all of this? "Well, yes...he did...but he barrel rolled, so it's not like he went end over end." Oh. Well then. I'll stop being concerned that our 1 year old just took the quick way down 8 stairs.
Sam was scared, but not really hurt. He has a little skid mark on his forehead, but other than that, he's no worse for the wear.
That little incident totally made me feel better about my lack of supervision debacle. I had to go to the bathroom, so I asked Alex to sit with Sam for a minute. "I got him Mom!" Awesome. I came back to find Alex engrossed with a racetrack, and Sam stuffing fistfuls of dog food in his mouth. My telling Sam to stop eating the dog food snapped Alex out of his race car trance long enough to say, "...oooooohhhh....oops. Sorry 'bout that Mom."
Given the pace of the subsequent scoots toward the dog's dish, I'm confident when I say Sam approves of the flavor dog food we buy.
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