Allow me to explain. Josh goes to a friends house and I get a phone call that he wants to come home because he fell off a scooter and somehow hit his eye. I come and console him. In the end, he is proud of his work.
Same day. 6 hours later. Drue. Cleaning the lake off the floor in the bathroom that my kids undoubtedly make everytime they take a shower or bath. I am not really sure. I didn't see. I just hear the crying. She came in screaming and holding her eye. I thought, "Aw. C'mon. It can't be THAT bad."
Okay. It was. Apparently she slipped and clopped it on the bath tub.
My only saving grace is that I have an alibi for Josh's incident. Either I have really clumsy children or ....er...well....I am not really sure how to finish out that one. It looks like I just got angry at them both, lined them up, and popped 'em both in one fail swoop.
The last picture is just of Ethan. Just a sleeping baby on his favorite toy. Crawling Pooh Bear. Thank heavens there are no evident cuts or bruises on him. I couldn't pass it up.