As we were riding the up escalator to leave, he decided to throw himself into a racing dive just as we reached the top. He does stuff like that. Dives onto the mall floor and "swims" along. On the floor, it's cute. On the escalator, not so much.
He let go of my hand, dove, hit belly-first right at the top. Snagged his shirt in the strainer teeth as Grampa snatched him up in a reflexive panic.
The machinery ate the bottom his shirt seam off, but no damage to the underlying skin.
No harm, no foul. Good way to give Grampa a heart-attack, though ...