The hubby just called me and Andrew went running full force into the kitchen. I think he was intending to stop himself with the sliding glass door. The only problem was that it was open! He kept going, landing outside. It's about a foot-and-a-half drop, because one of DH's (extremely slow to complete) projects is putting a couple steps off the back of the house (we used to have a deck, which he tore off before Andrew was born). Andrew cried a little (he landed in the rocks), but is otherwise okay.
INSERT BIG EYEROLL HERE. None of this shit happens when I'm home. I'm glad he's okay, and this is kind-of slightly maybe funny, but my annoyance trumps the humor in this situation.