"Can you let Elijah out of bed?" I mumble and flip the opposite direction from Andy.
I hear Andy get out of bed, shut the gate at the top of the stairs, unzip Elijah's bed, "Good morning, Elijah," and he gets back into bed with me.
Footsteps. Fast footsteps.
"Let's go downstairs," Elijah says with his talker at the top of the stairs.
"Let's go downstairs. Let's go downstairs. Let's go downstairs."
Elijah is in our room, standing at the foot of our bed. He shouts/growls/whines something that sounds a whole lot like, "Mom" in a tone that's the equivalent of a small child pulling on your pants.
"Let's go downstairs."
I spring from bed, open the gate and we go downstairs.
Ask and you shall receive, my boy.