Dadda, Painter Need Surgery

I woke this morning and, after bidding my little boy 'good morning', was greeted with the same statement for which this post is titled. I stared for a moment. Did he mean the word 'sugary', as in wanting some sort of candy? Had I simply heard him wrong, or he'd gotten his words crossed?

"Dadda, Painter need surgery."
"Uh... wow, kid. Do you mean sugary? Candy?"
"Dadda, Painter surgery. Please."
"Surgery?"
"Yeah, sick. Painter need surgery. A doctor."

So that was that, he did, in fact, mean 'surgery'. No doubt this idea of his was spawned from my own surgery I had earlier in the month, though it wasn't something I'd ever explained to him. He just assumed I was 'sick'. That's the cutest thing I've ever heard of. I did go over the notion that he required no surgery, though he kept pointing at his stomach.

"Need surgery."

Creepy as hell, that was. I pictured him being a character in a Stephen King tale.

I think I mentioned something in a previous post about posting an image of my surgical aftermath, but I can't remember and I'm not going back to check right at this moment. Here you go-- My disgusting, abdomenal, post-operative self:

Most fun. And yes, I look ridiculously pot-bellied, and they shaved me. I don't know what I'm up to with posting this picture and the one in my last post, showing my disturbing, permanently injured, ever-bloodshot eye, but it's certainly not showing off my good looks (of which, by now you'll realize I have none).

And here's The Little Boy Who Wanted Surgery (I may use that as the title of one of my children's books, at some point, along with my previous big hit "The Little Boy with Ants in His Heart"):