My poor little boy has a blackeye.
We had to eat dinner at Raquel's Wednesday night, which is another whole post in itself, but anyways, Mason was running through her kitchen and tripped over his feet and went flying into the corner of the bottom of the stove. I felt so bad because I was right there drying my hands and watched the whole thing happen and couldn't stop it.
By the time I picked him up it was already swollen and starting to turn purple. These photos were taken Thursday morning. Thankfully the eye doesn't look as bad today.
I felt so bad that I let my son eat cookies for breakfast.
He couldn't even open it all the way. Poor little kid.I know who could say no to this little face anyways. Takes away some of the guilt.
