I Found the Stairs

Picture this I wake up from a long nap on a warm California summer day, I decide that I am going to join the rest of my family downstairs. I drag myself out of bed open the door and prepare to walk down the stairs. Somewhere between preparing to walk down the stairs and walking down the stairs the execution didn't go as planned... All I remember is making it to the door wiping the cole from my eye, taking one step towards the stairs and the next thing I know I'm looking at my ankles or my butt I can't remember which body part I was getting an unintended better view of. After several confusing seconds I made it to the bottom of the stairs with a loud thud, of course not a loud enough thud for anyone to see what went wrong. I picked myself up and hobbled into the living room to explain how I found the stairs.

Blame It on Mom

By now we all know my feet don't listen to  me so when I managed to make it through a family outing without so much a missed step ( that's a stretch of the truth after all this is me I tripped more than a time or two) but the point is I went out and I didn't make a spectacle of myself ... that is until it was time to go home. Outside of a CD store my mother, some other members of my family, and I were headed to the car when my mother decided to pass me some bags. She reached forward I reached back while still walking just as my hands connected with the bags I decide to give my old friend Mr. concrete a kiss. My mother and I both know I tripped but none of my family believed us, they all thought my mother had pushed me onto the floor! America she didn't push me, my friend and I were just saying hello.