On Monday, Shark Boy fell at school and gashed his knee and had to go to the doctor's office and get it stitched up.
Our first experience with stitches. The shot to numb it was the worst part. He cried and squeezed my hands so hard. But he was a very brave little guy.
So all this week we've had to remove his bandage twice a day and dress his wound.
This evening as Mr. P is putting on a new bandage smeared with Neosporin, Shark got all squirmy and apprehensive about it.
P said, "Look don't freak out. We do this every night and it doesn't hurt. You always freak out about stuff. I hope you outgrow that dude."
Shark Boy replied, "Dad. Five is not a high number."
He's so bright that even when he was only three we would sometimes have to stop and think "Wait, he's only three!" We would catch ourselves expecting understanding or behaviors that were really not in line with his age. These verbally advanced ones are tricksy that way.
I am glad he reminded us.
Five is not a high number.