My son is currently at that stage of development where his ability to get himself into sticky situations is only surpassed by his inabilty to get himself out of them. A few minutes ago, I was hanging the washing out on the line, while my son was playing in the kitchen; I knew he was reasonably safe, as I could hear him playing with his Pooh Bear toy.
Then I heard the words, “Bye bye”, which signalled not only that he had stopped playing with the toy, but that he had not been playing with it for at least the twenty seconds it takes to politely ask for assistance in righting itself a couple of times before giving up. I dashed into the house with all speed, to discover him halfway up the stairs, with the closed stairgate at the top providing a distinct and definite potential for one of those aforementioned “sticky situations” (my son, like a donkey, can only go up stairs, not down).
This makes me sound like a terrible parent, but I can probably beat that and make it sound like I’m a terrible human being too. You see, my first thought upon realising that he had been MIA for twenty or so seconds was not “Oh no, maybe he’s in the freezer” (actually quite unlikely) or “Oh no, maybe he’s halfway up the stairs” (apparently a good bet), but instead it was “Oh no… maybe he’s eating my doughnuts”.
I intend to be out of earshot when my wife reads this… preferably by virtue of being out of the country too.