Mr. and I put up the baby gates to keep Zeb in the kitchen. Note: Mr and I. Not #1 and I. Not LLB and I... MR. and I.
I was balancing the checkbook and Mr. was puttering around the kitchen. One second he was talking to me and the next second I heard a huge crash. Mr. had, very ungracefully, fallen over the baby gate and landed on his face. Instead of the end of the sentence, I heard a very small "ow".
Fortunately, he didn't hurt anything except his pride. (I made sure he was okay before I giggled.)
Needless to say, I take one gate down after I put Zeb to bed for the night. Lord knows that I simply can't have Mr. doing face-plants in the kitchen before going off to work in the morning. Not without me being there to laugh umm... I mean help him up, anyway.