Amphibious Assault

I told him it was heavy. I told him to be careful. I told him I'd be right back.

But lo, I get downstairs to feed the dogs and I hear the boy crying above the kitchen, and run upstairs to find him lying on the floor, head on a pillow, comforter over him, holding his forehead, and the offending object lying a few feet to the side above his cranium.
He'd decided that the ceramic frog I'd given him to hold would be more interesting held at arm's length while lying on the ground, and I'm sure he lost his grip and a sharp corner of the 'lillypad' it sits on got him right smack two inches above the bridge of his nose; he had a wee little pin-sized blood spot there, making him look like the Virgin of Calcutta.

An aside here to point out how a 3-year-old's mind works as he formulates language. He'd also asked for the other frog trinket, the one wearing a crown for some reason. Together, they were the "frog with no crown, and the frog with yes crown."
Makes sense.

Anyhoo, Mommy came in, as she does when she hears her first-born in tears, wondering what the hell I'd done, but when she asked him what happened, I just started cracking up, since I knew the answer was, "Mommy, I dropped a frog on my head."