BAH has always maintained that the reason he fell down the stairs was because there was something wrong with the stairs, specifically that step #2 has a ledge on it that grabs your foot, twists it in a weird way, and sends you flying.
I was willing to fix the steps, but, last weekend, I did let slip a little bit of doubt about the actual brokenness of the steps. I can't remember my exact words, but BAH and Babyfoot were not at all amused,
"I know how to walk down stairs! I have fallen down those stairs not once, but twice! There is something wrong with those stairs!" said a very emphatic BAH (with a little Babyfoot creeping into his voice, no doubt).
"Let's fix the stairs, then," said I, reacting to his sudden intensity.
And we didn't. The stairs remained as they were.
Yesterday, I ran out the back door to go meet the school bus with Little Z, and darned if that second step didn't grab my foot and trip me. I barely saved myself from falling down to my knees on the concrete. I got off with a slightly sprained ankle and sore top of the foot. It was a less serious injury than the Bad Assed Husband's, but damned if it wasn't the exact same part of the ankle and the exact same part of the foot that were hurt.
I guess there's something wrong with the back steps!
And, yes, I did grant BAH a few moments of, "Okay, you were totally right and I was totally wrong." Because, as those of us in successful long term relationships know, love is always saying you're sorry!
Poor Little Z. She has no one to race across the lawn with. (Unless you count the chickens.)
(There are 22 chickens.)
And, of course, the babysitter: