Child, you cannot walk down the stairs. You will get hurt. You will fall down and roll to the bottom of these very hard, un-carpeted stairs, and you might spill blood or you might break bones and I might have to take you to the hospital. Do you understand?
No? You’re going to do it anyway?
I’m sorry I wasn’t there to catch you. I’m sorry I couldn’t even get out the door to get to you first. I’m not sorry that you came out of it with only some minor scrapes and a goose egg. I am also not sorry that it only took one glimpse of a basketball to take your mind off your trauma and focus it on more important things, like why that ball is not in your hands.
Now, no more walking down the stairs by yourself. Not until you are 6 inches taller and can actually reach the railing. Please.
Oh, and you look like a street fighter when you have your hood on.
You little hoodlum.