the no whistle zone and the BIG Bruise

Just in case you thought life on Planet Silas was always rainbows and puppies, as the first picture would imply, let me introduce you to exhibit B:
What provoked this sad, sorry, woe-is-me face?
Less then 2 seconds of, believe it or not, WHISTLING.
There you have it. For some reason we have not currently sussed out, Silas hates whistling. It wasn't always that way, but for a few weeks or so, even the briefest whistling has resulted in Silas freezing in place, turning to the whistler in horror, and then bursting into tears. All we can really do is redirect his attention as soon as possible, usually by singing one of his favorite songs or quickly whisking him outside.

This seemingly irrational fear of whistling has led me to realize something about myself: I whistle. A lot. I usually start whistling without even thinking about it, until my son turns to me with the face you see above as though I've just run over a kitten and then put the car in reverse and run over it again. I have to check myself constantly now to make sure I don't mindlessly whistle along with to music. Thankfully, humming meets with no adverse reaction, so we are safe to hum along, for now.

Oh yes, and in today's top story, Silas tripped and hit his eye on one of his toys. He scraped and bruised himself pretty badly right below his eye and on his cheek. It looks awful and it took us forever to calm him down. This is by far the worst injury he's had to date. Although I'm sure there will be many more and it's not as though it's his first bruise, it still sucks to see his sweet little face all marked up. You can see just part of the injury in the picture below. But upside bonus: You can see all of those pearly whites in the picture too. Tooth #15 just poked through!