I was on the phone talking to my dad, who was asking me to come home (he was dying of prostate cancer) from Hawaii to CA to help take care of him...so I wasn't really paying attention as my 2 year old son climbed up on a kitchen chair, then took a tumble, face/belly first, onto the floor. BOOOM! Screams! Curses from me. I dropped the phone and ran next door with my son, to our neighbor's apartment. The man next door was a corpsman, just like my husband, so I knew he could make sure my son was okay. I banged on their door and yelled his name. He opened the door to see what was wrong, and in the middle of my crying and raving, I looked down, saw he was in his boxers, and calmly commented..."nice boxers, Dave". ;o)
My son was okay..only now he suffers from teeanageitis. I am the one who is damaged.