Hi! It’s Wicked Wednesday again!
Baby gates. They’re a hazard.
I know this, because about three weeks ago, one injured me. When I say it injured me, what I really mean is that I injured myself on it, and now refuse to take responsibility for that action, so I’m blaming it on the gate itself.
Either way, a hazard, I tell you!
I knew the gate was there. I had walked over it more than once. Yes, a few times I had come close to tripping, but then I’d remembered to watch my step, and all was fine.
I knew it was there this time too. I didn’t forget that it existed. I had every intention of stepping over it, missing it completely, a mission I was in the process of trying to complete.
I underestimated. I was distracted, by talking, as I so often find that I am. Slam. Straight into the baby gate, rather forcefully, I might add.
If you were wondering, the gate is fine, it survived the impact better than anyone could have hoped it would. No problems there. Me, on the other hand, not bad, but not in quite as pristine condition as the gate is either.
Tripping over baby gates is a cool story to tell people when they ask you broke your toe, right?