Stewie woke up at 3:30 this morning crying.
I sauntered into his room and was greeted by an angry almost 3 year old, sitting up in his bed with his blankie tucked under his arm. Through tears he said; “You cut off my finger!”
I rubbed his head, layed him back in bed and said, “No I didn’t, go back to sleep”.
He sat right back up and said louder, “YOU CUT OFF MY FINGER!”
I sat on his bed, layed him back down, then took his hand and counted his fingers to him beginning with his right hand.
“Oh” he said, and I sat there as he dozed off to sleep within seconds.
When he awoke in the morning, he ran into his Mummy’s room to tell her that I cut his finger off. She looked at his hand and counted the fingers as I did earlier.
Then, he pointed to the space between his first finger and thumb. “There!” he proclaimed… There was my finger…
Apparently my son had 6 fingers…