Busted.

In the first two minutes Lincoln's feet touched the pavement at my parent's house, he took off down the street and did a face plant in the cement.  So just in case you're wondering - nope, Lincoln didn't just finish a raspberry jam sandwich, that's the actual destruction of my baby's perfect skin.  Also actual destruction: my self-esteem as a responsible and protective mother.

Still, somehow he didn't let his gravel-ey grin come between him and his midnight, 2 a.m., 4 a.m., and 7 a.m. snack.  And ya know, how could I be upset at that poor face?  I'll admit it, after the third waking I finally crawled into Lincoln's portable crib so I wouldn't have to get up again, and then we slept in until 9 a.m.  Maybe I should share beds (or cribs) with Lincoln more often and I'd get more sleep?