Florence Nightingale, I ain't.

So this is device that attacked my sweet baby's hand. Sure, it appears to be all innocent, sitting there unplugged and cool as a cucumber. But insert those metal prongs into the outlet and...LOOOOOOK OUT! It springs to life radiating dangerous and vengeful heat...

Actually, I feel totally guilty because I plugged it in & left it on the counter with the cord hanging below. Naturally, when Carson came into my bathroom, the first thing to catch his eye was the dangling black temptation--babies are much like kittens in this way. He grabbed it, pulled it onto the floor by him, and then managed to make contact between the flat iron's scorching hot ceramic plates and the back of his hand.

We've been lucky that it seems to not have bothered him beyond the first five minutes of the accident, but he simply would not leave the bandaging alone. Desperate times called for desperate measures, so on went the sock. I covered his hand with one of his socks, taped it onto his arm, and then cut out a hole for his thumb. (Yes, he is a thumbsucker.) It was a hit at the grocery store!

Here are some pictures of his makeshift medical treatment.