Thanksgiving shiner

The story of your shiner is a long and winding story...
This morning, you awoke to the appearance of some young family members sleeping on the sofa bed; you were thrilled and proceeded to play with them all day. They were excellent companions as we busied ourselves in the kitchen.
I had my head down, chopping vegetables and fruits, mixing and mixing most of the morning and into the early afternoon. I was cook and hostess and organizer, but I couldn't have done that satisfying work without a lot of help. Nana and Papa helped with the potatoes and stuffing, table setting, snack trays, carving -- Margaret helped construct and execute the gravy (yeah for sage!) -- and, of course, Dad was there plugging along too.
We finally got to our meal and I sat with you at your little table. There were so many people in our house (14 for dinner!) that we had to bring up an additional table from the basement. The extra table (and our dining table extended) meant extra chairs.
After dinner, while people were winding down, you were winding up. Your circles around the table, complete with drive-by tickling, grew more frenetic. On one of your trips around, your foot caught on the leg of a metal folding chair and you tumbled, face first, into the back of your little, wooden desk chair. A spot next to your eye took the blow; we think that your glasses saved your eye itself. Consequently, you have a pretty nasty black eye, with a bright red scrape to boot.
You cried, of course, and I held you while applying ice. Soon, you fell asleep on our bed for a late nap. After you woke up and said that your eye felt "a LOT better," (though it looked worse), you were back to playing -- happy as can be. You didn't want to see the evidence until Dad popped open his computer and took these shots:

Okay, well, the picture thing didn't work out right now, but I'll get them up.
Here's to another great day tomorrow, hopefully one without injuries. xo

Update -- here they are!