After a deep cleaning session upstairs, I made my way downstairs. I got about three steps down, when I stopped. A light bulb turned on in my head. A smile formed on my face. I quickly hopped back to the top of the stairs. The kids were quietly watching TV. I stood at the top, staring down the eleven steps. Should I do it? I had to do it. My stomach was doing somersaults. The somersaults made me feel like a wuss. I felt like an old, boring, adult. This was not acceptable.
At this point I threw all caution to the wind and sat at the edge of the steps. I counted to three in my head and gave myself a slight shove off the top step. I began to slide down the stairs on my butt, squealing like a kid as my tush banged against each step. My descent happened way faster then I thought it would. I slid down really fast, in spite of trying to slow myself down with no avail. As my butt hit the hardwood floor on the bottom, I screamed out in pain. Jadon came running over to see what happened.
I explained to him what I had just done. After all, I remember sliding down stairs all the time as a kid. This memory is what spurred the idea. He should have this experience as well. Jadon couldn't understand what I was explaining, so I showed him. Again, I flew down the stairs on my butt. He giggled with pure delight as I slid down. I grabbed on to the railing and hoisted my fat off the ground. My behind was already hurting. What was I thinking? I am not a child anymore. I am a grown woman! I can't be sliding down stairs. What if this leads to early onset arthritis or something? At that point I was feeling completely ridiculous. I am not a child anymore, but I certainly do not want to be an old, boring, adult. I climbed those stairs and did it one last time.
My butt hasn't felt the same since Saturday, but I have no regrets.