Awww! Not the face!!!

Jeff and I love to look back through tons of candid photos we've taken in the three years Biscuit has been on Earth. But our mothers, they like portraits. Store-bought portraits.

The closest we've come to giving in to a portrait session is Biscuit's school pictures at day care.

Believe it or not, they have professional pictures taken at day care twice a year - once in the spring and once in the fall. I had to buy the spring ones from last year. They were adorable.

And Jeff, God love him, was pressured by a group of four women to buy Biscuit's fall photos this year. A couple of day care moms and two ladies from the photography studio ganged up on him and guilted him into buying the way-too-expensive photos. I'm sorta glad they did, though. The photos were really good.

So as I scanned through the circulars in the Sunday paper, I found a really good coupon for a local photo studio. It's a place that has been recommended to me by several friends. They say it's low-key and laid back. And there isn't a ton of pressure to buy.

So I decided I would take advantage of the good deal I found, dress Biscuit up and take him to the portrait studio.

Well, until tonight's ... um, incident.

I hate to sound like I'm bragging (and yes, I know I might have to eat my words at some point), but Biscuit has been doing so well with the whole bathroom process. He lets us know when he has to go, and since he's quite routine-oriented (I can't imagine where he got THAT from), we've been able to pretty easily establish the rule of him lifting the seat and putting it back down when he's done.

So Biscuit went into the bathroom tonight, got up onto his step-stool, pulled his pants down and did his business. He grabbed the seat and was in the process of putting it back down, but he was leaning over just a little too far toward the toilet. The seat slipped out of his hand, and on the way to crashing down onto the toilet, the seat caught Biscuit right between the eyes on the bridge of his nose.

Poor Biscuit. He screamed and he cried. And who can blame him? I can't imagine how much that must have hurt. And he bled, too, which always makes matters worse.

Jeff was trying to comfort him, but sometimes even tough little boys need their mamas. Biscuit came walking toward me wearing socks and a shirt ... and that's all. He was so pitiful.

I held him and told him I was sorry it happened. I asked him if he was okay, and through his tears and snubs, he said he was.

"I'm o-o-okay, M-m-mom," Biscuit wailed.

So I guess our trip to the portrait studio will be postponed just a bit. Maybe Biscuit will be injury-free around Mother's Day.

This was after the crying and bleeding, once a little antibiotic ointment had been applied.