Yesterday, I put Cole on the couch to watch Chuggington on t.v. He was nestled in a blanket and he is normally really good balance-wise. He can do stairs and can climb monkey bars and is very well coordinated.
So you can imagine my surprise when I went into the kitchen to get a glass of milk and I heard a loud thud. I ran into the living room to find Cole lying face down on the hardwood floor crying passionately. I scooped him up and kissed him and asked him where it hurt. Through his tears he pointed to his knee and said, "Leg". I kissed it better.
At that moment, Mark came in through the front door. I said, "Cole just fell off the couch." To which a small, tearful voice piped up, "No Mommy. Jumped."