When he was four or five years old our son Stuart fell and struck his upper abdomen against the top of a chair. Within a few minutes he appeared white as a ghost, and we bundled him up and rushed him to the emergency room at a nearby hospital.
An examination revealed a ruptured spleen and other possible internal injuries. Exploratory surgery was performed, and the poor little fellow was split from stem to stern. Fortunately, only the spleen was lost. Within a few days Stuart was on his way to recovery, and he frequently exited his hospital room and explored the corridor.
I can see it now. Stuart walking the hospital corridor dressed in in his gown, slightly bent because of the stitches. I noticed that he was always looking around, observing everything.
“What are you looking for, son?” I asked.
“I’m looking for a way out of this place,” was his answer.
At that moment I realized I had a very bright boy.