Sucker Punch

So, this morning, an unfortunate accident happened. I was the recipient of a beautiful fat, swollen, and split lip. The story behind this? A very unlikely one. As my dear mother would say, 'if it wasn't for bad luck, I'd have no luck at all'.
At 7:04 this morning, I staggered into "Taylor's room" (also known as the living room) to get him out of his crib and put him in our bed like I do every other morning. This shows how tired (or lazy, take your pick) I really am. All I want is 10 more minutes of sleep. That's it. But that's beside the point, back to the story. As I was saying, I staggered in, picked up Taylor, and crawled back into bed.
Now, I'm still not exactly sure what happened next. I was putting Taylor in the middle of the bed so he would be between Josh and I and couldn't roll off the bed. I guess Josh was trying to pull the sheet up over the top of himself (very forcefully, I might add) and my face got in the way?
Essentially, my husband sucker punched me. Yes, you read correctly. I was sucker punched.
As soon as it happened, Josh shot up and asked if I was okay and kept saying what sounded like a continuous stream of "I'm sorry"s. Taylor laughed. I said I was fine and went into the bathroom to make sure I wasn't bleeding. Nope. No blood, but it was definitely split open (having big teeth is more of a curse than a blessing in SO many ways...) and starting to swell.
I got a bag of ice and went back to bed while holding it against my mouth. Taylor thought this was the perfect time to crawl on top of me and suck on the bag, as it was on my mouth, which ended with him smashing his noggin into my already painful lip. Oh, motherhood.
Well, the swelling is down, but I can't say it's any less painful. I don't think Josh will be forgetting about this for quite some time. Or ever, for that matter.
Eternal marriage: the way to make your spouse feel guilty. Eternally.