Battle Scars

Today I got a hickie. It's been a while.

Last time I got one, my father laughed. It wasn't, needless to say, the reaction I expected.

Today's scarlet beauty came courtesy of Kye, clutching a little bit of loose-ish chest skin somewhere between my neck and boob in his talon-tipped claw. Twisting. Yanking.

Me - Shouting. Frantically loosening. Checking for Permanent Damage.

When Husband saw it, he laughed.

Yes, this is what I have to deal with. If it's not The Claw yanking my bottom lip down over my collarbone or my eyelid across my nose, Big Tooth makes an appearance.

Incoming!!

Wet, dripping jaws of Death distract me from its approach with peals of baby laughter and a fat little body pinioning Mama on the picnic blanket with ominously foul-smelling diaper firmly planted on my ribcage.

Bottom line: were it not for the bony nature of a nose, it would have had a hickie today too.