Dinner plans took an abrupt turn since I had been mid-making soup. Soup just didn't seem like the right thing for a fatter-by-the-minute split lip. So dinner became smoothies and soup. An odd combination, but the kids loved it.
We're icing and babying. He's still a little visibly shaken and talking in a quiet, subdued voice. He must be bruised and hurting in other places, but I think he's mostly just a little scared still.
I know this isn't any big, remember-this-for-years and re-tell-the-story-at-reunions type of event. It really could have been so much worse! But it was a scary little event and since I was mid-boring-post when it happened, it only seemed right to share (and make it a good story while I was at it).
This pic isn't even as bad as it got. As he was heading to bed it had gotten much redder and fatter. Poor guy. I gave him some Tylenol before he went to bed and I'm trying to continue to feel sympathy for him despite the fact that he is now "in bed" but really torturing Isaiah in some way that has Isaiah screaming bloody murder. I figure he must be feeling a bit better if he's up to torturing Isaiah.