Evelin is upstairs napping. I am upstairs trying to get Quinn settled for a nap. Celeste is playing happily downstairs. Just as Quinn seems to tip over from resisting to giving in to sleep, a scream rises from downstairs. I pop Quinn in the crib (and crying commences), holler for Evelin to see if she can help Quinn, and then run down the stairs to find ...
... Celeste's butt and legs poking out from under the couch. (The proof that I am a good father is that I didn't even think of taking a picture until hours after she was extricated from the situation.) She was fine, just a bit scared and freaked out, but still worried about the Matchbox race car she'd crawled under there to get.
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