First Blood...

The baby had his first major/minor accident about an hour ago, and I'm still recovering.

DH had the day off from work today because he had some stuff he had to take care of, so he got home earlier than normal. I had some things to package up and take to the Post Office, so DH took the baby upstairs to play while he checked his email. I'm happily taping up packages on the kitchen island when I hear:

*thump* *thud thud*

"What...? Eh, it was probably just the cat jump-..."

Then I hear a scream that makes my heart leap into my throat, and that screechy record sound echo in my head. I drop what I'm doing and tear down the hall and up the stairs, only to be met by DH who has the screaming baby in his arms and is bringing him downstairs. His first words were "It's ok, it's ok..." to which I reply "WHAT HAPPENED???" (because, you know, I'm calm like that). Apparently, the baby had pulled himself up to a standing position using one of the bookshelves in the office and his little hand slipped, resulting in a bonked noggin, a fat lip, and lots of blood (mouth wounds bleed a lot - thank GOD I know that). He cried and cried for what felt like days, but was probably only about 10 minutes or so, while we mopped up his mouth, gave him a frozen teething ring, tried to nurse him (he wouldn't), and generally tried to distract him.

He is now down for a nap - his little lip still swollen and what looks like the beginning of a shiner above his left eye and on his cheekbone. DH feels awful (though I have to admit, I'm glad it was him and not me - terrible? Maybe, but true), we both feel like we've run about five marathons, and the damn bookshelf is none the worse for the wear.

Yet.

Anyone need some firewood?