I haven't figured this out yet . . .
This is how it goes most Saturday mornings for me; the kids wake me up at some point and we walk downstairs to eat breakfast. At the top of the stairs, the kids usually fight over who gets to ride on my back down the stairs. I usually try to convince them I’m not a pack mule, but that never works and I carry one of them down the stairs.
I lightheartedly suggested G carry me down the stairs this morning and he assumed the position, told me to, “Climb on daddy,” and waited patiently. If I thought the boy could carry me, I would have climbed on, but as strong as he is, I doubt he could carry his little sister. That’s not to say he didn’t try.
Foolish me, took a picture instead of making sure the two of them didn’t take a nasty tumble down the stairs, but I figured they’ve fallen enough times to know how to do it without hurting themselves.