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.