Ouch! That’s gotta hurt

I got the scare of my 30 years tonight when we got home from the 4-block walk to Mr. Twist for ice cream.  Suzanne had just come into the house with Matthew and Thomas and I was unloading everything from the stroller and gathering everything back into the house.

Of course, I thought they had all gone upstairs for bath time when I came flying back in the front door, only to hit something on the other side as I crashed through the threshold.

I closed the door to gather my thoughts and figure out what I had hit only to see little Thomas (the 3-year-old) reeling from the door, holding his eye.

Of course I immediately crashed back through the door, upon realizing that I had hit him with the door handle on my previous attempt at entry.

I picked him up to soothe him from his shock into a good healthy wail, at which point he had no more interest in being anywhere near me and only wanted mommy, who had made her way back down the stairs and traded me sons.

Way to go dad... your son's first black eye is your own fault.

At least we can be thankful he's okay for the most part.

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