Original post: http://www.penana.com/story/9003/we-all-have-our-moments/issue/11
Same intrepid boy, now six years old. You would think I'd gotten better at not almost dying, but no. This time, though, it's not about knot-tying skill. This time, it's about stairs.
The six-year-old boy's cousins had gotten a new house with two stories, and of course, magnificent stairs. Stairs were a concept worshiped by the boy. The boy lived in a one-story house, and the only places that had staircases were restaurants, where he was forbidden to play, and his grandmother's house, where the same rule applied.
The older cousins showed our intrepidly stupid hero around their new house. There was a loft set aside for just playing, a master bedroom big enough for an outdoor tent, and separate bedrooms for each of the two cousins. The little boy was amazed.
Then the cousins held a stair jumping competition. Stop laughing. I know we all did that.
It started basic enough. The oldest cousin, who was eight, started up the stairs. She gripped the railing, staring down four steps. Closing her eyes, she jumped.
The cousin landed feet first onto cold, hard tile floor. She put her hands out to steady herself and then broke out laughing. "That was great. Why don't you go higher?"
Our hero stated at the seven-year-old cousin and smiled. The cousin nodded and walked up five steps. Bracing himself, the seven-year-old jumped.
The floor was hard, and his hands were shaking, but the cousin was able to steady himself on the cold tile.
Smiling, our hero told himself he could make it. The six-year-old counted up six stairs and jumped.
He was a bit shaken, but when the oldest cousin gave him a high five, our intrepid idiot felt better about it.
The oldest cousin went eight steps and landed perfectly, boasting that she was the stair jumping champion. This is when our ridiculous six-year-old got his stupid idea.
He decided he was going to jump all the stairs.
I will always remember counting each step, arriving at sixteen steps in total. I will always remember the colors of the caramel carpet and the wheat and cream tile. I will remember the feel of the wooden railing in my hand, the last things I saw and touched before it happened.
And then it happened.
Seriously, you thought I'd just give it away like that? No. You have to wait.
The six-year-old walked up all sixteen steps, feeling the caramel carpet beneath his bare feet. When he got to the top, he stared down at his cousins. He couldn't wait to see how impressed they were going to be when he made it down all the steps. He was going to be the king of the stairs.
The boy jumped high and far and screamed.
I don't remember much of the way down. There was a ceiling that came in halfway over the stairs, and they say I hit that. All I remember was the hospital, and the stitches on my forehead. And of course, my mom was hugging me and my cousins were saying sorry for something that wasn't their fault.
Because at the end of the day, nobody forced the six-year-old to jump off sixteen stairs. It was his own stupidity. And there you have it. Another plainly stupid thing I did.
ns 15.158.61.23da2
