Hurts so good

We had our first official injury today.



Mr. I Don't Listen To My Mommy or My Grandma was fooling around in the hallway at Grandma's house, taking the picture frames off the wall. He tried to grab one that was just a little too high and it fell off the wall and the corner of the glass caught him right on the cheek.

Much crying commenced and after applying some pressure with a cold washcloth, it was determined to be more of a scratch than anything serious. But because it was on his face, it bled copiously.

After crying for about five minutes, he abruptly looked up at me and announced, "All done crying." An Elmo band-aid and some Neosporin and he was good as new.



Every time I look at him now, though, it's so jarring to see a big red gash across his presssshush perfect cherubic cheek. I considered calling a plastic surgeon, but thought that might be a little over the top, considering it was just a minor scratch.

Perhaps a scar will give him a little street cred with the preschool set next year.