Lucas clocked me on Friday. Shock. Crying. Fat lip. Seriously. It. Really. Hurt.
After he hit me and the pain lingered--is still lingering two days later--I've come to the conclusion that I've never actually been hit in the mouth before.
You see people get punched in the mouth on TV all the time. Yeah, they get that look, grab their face, sometimes there's blood. Whatever. I never really gave it a lot of thought. Now I realize what they are going through (well, okay, not those actors but people who really get socked in the mouth).
Don't worry, it wasn't malicious. We're not training him in boxing or anything (yet!). He was flailing around trying to avoid me and his toothbrush and happened to have grabbed the fingernail brush and happened to flail at the precise angle to have that brush-holding-fist clock me square in the mouth.
There wasn't blood. But there was shock. Then tears. From both of us. My sudden cry kind of freaked him out, I think. And before you know it we were both sobbing. Luckily Abel was still home getting ready for work and ran into the bathroom to embrace and comfort us both.
We both calmed down and the incident is forgotten. Well, all except for my lip which is still a bit black and blue.
Advice for new parents: start practicing your bob and weave now.