As is the usual behavior for an ailing man, my guy continued to milk it nearly 5 hours after it happened. Okay, fine, he's 3 and it was his first skinned knee. I kissed him, I hugged him, I gave him a purple ice pop because don't ice pops heal skinned knees? But, really, he can't walk? Suck it up, bub. And then when I finally convinced Monkey Man that his leg, indeed, was intact he proceeded to walk tippy-toe as if the slightest bit of pressure on his right knee would cause him to buckle over.
I have about as much patience for this as I do a 35 year-old man asking me if he has a fever. But my heart softened when, after screaming in the bathtub because the WATER WAS EATING AWAY AT HIS TIBIA he looked me in the eyes, all teary and nose drippy and ridiculously, sadly cute, and said, "My boo boo is sad." And I think I heard him add bitch at the end.