Emmalyn and the stairs reached a truce the other day.

    However, it was short-lived and now they’re at war again.

    Here’s what happened (according to my sister):

   She was in the kitchen while her husband was watching television Emmalyn and eating a candy cane. A couple suspiciously quiet minutes went by and so she poked her head into the living room. Her husband was sitting on the couch with his candy cane, but Emmalyn was nowhere in sight.

    “Babe, where’s Emmalyn?” she asked.

    “She’s on the stairs,” he answered.

    “Are you watching her? She’s still unsteady on stairs.”

    My sister’s husband got up from the couch, took a look at Emmalyn, who was euphoric over the stairs, realized she was ok, and sat back down on the couch with his candy cane.

    “She’s fine,” he said.

    Comforted with this answer, my sister went back about her business in the kitchen.

   Not ten seconds later, the weight of Emmalyn’s head got the best of her (again) and she fell down the stairs.

    In his defense my sister’s husband did throw his candy cane down and rush to her aid before she hit the ground. Alas, he was a second too late. To add insult to injury, the dog stole his candy cane.

    Emmalyn was furious with her father for letting her fall. She glared at him for the rest of the day and looked particularly murderous when he said, “Well, Emmalyn, I guess it’s time we get you some gates.”

    One day, Emmalyn, you’ll show those stairs who’s boss.

    Auntie has faith in you.

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