OK last confession... I was in the loft of my parents' house and my three year old brother was at the bottom of the ladder squealing to come up. He started climbing the ladder so I went down and carried him up.
He spent half an hour happily gurgling around and coo-ing over all the old toys and boxes of photos and books. When my mum called us down for tea, I tried to pick him up and carry him down but he wailed like a banshee and refused to come. After a good ten minutes of persuasion I told him I'd leave him in the attic and the witch would get him.
I climbed half way down the (14 foot) ladder and repeated the threat - no response. This tactic was repeated twice until I was on the 2nd landing. At this point a pair of infant feet became apparent; my brother was lowering himself from the trapdoor without the benefit of the ladder.
As I ran back up the stairs three at a time he dropped like a stone, over the 14 foot drop.
Amazingly, he landed on the substantial baby-gate, only recently removed from the bottom of the stairs. It had several bendy plastic slats which propelled him into the air, much as if he'd hit a trampoline, before he finally came to rest on the carpet. I've never heard such screams....
My folks still think he fell from the bottom rung of the loft ladder.