I gave someone a shiner today.
Too bad that someone was my 3-year-old nephew.
It started out pretty good. I zipped up a sleeping bag over him and he stumbled around laughing like it was a great game. It all went well until he kind of stumbled and went cheekbone first into a bookshelf.
Then the crying began.
Fortunately, his mother was there, so my primary role quickly become hysterical apologizing and grabbing frozen shredded cheese to stick on his face, which had doubled in size and turned a nice blue before I even got the sleeping bag off. I was sure I had an express ticket from Fun Aunt Heidi to Mean Aunt Heidi Who Likes To Hurt Me.
I didn't, and the fears of concussion dissipated after Jennifer flashed a peace sign and asked how many fingers she had. My poor battered nephew counted those two and then proceeded to count the other three that she did in fact have.
He also spent the next several hours demanding whatever he wanted from me -- more episodes of the most annoying cartoon I've watched this week, playing Angry Birds on my cell phone, staying in the stroller going up the stairs. It's like he knows I'm so racked with guilt I can't say no. I think that's an excellent mental indicator.
So, I think he'll be all right. But nobody tell Grandma, OK?