First Black Eye

You should never get in the middle of a frisbee match between me and John. Charlie learned that the hard way, poor guy. He wandered in between us and beaned in the eye with the frisbee (foam, not plastic, thankfully!). Luckily, he's tough and only cried about it for about 10 seconds.

Later that night, as the bruise grew bigger and blacker, John commented, with a hint of nostalgia, "Aw. His first black eye." First?! As in, he'll have more? John made it sound like this was a normal milestone, like first steps or a first word. Seriously, MORE black eyes? I don't know if I can handle my little guy getting beat up that much.

I've only had one black eye and that was from a freak Drama class accident. It's not normal to have lots of black eyes! Oh well. Guess that's what you get when you marry a Flynn . . . rough-and-tumble boys with lots of bumps and bruises! I guess that means I better cowboy up.

Hopefully, his future black eyes will come from manlier exploits like spelunking or mixed martial arts fighting . . . not freak Drama class accidents.