Number One With a Knife

Surprise, surprise... on the opening day of deer hunting, Daddy cut his finger worse (or is it better) than normal. Boppa had to take him to the emergency room to get four stitches. Just the night before, Aunt Dan was saying that I would be able to dress a deer and clean a duck before I could even hunt. Mommy told him it's because he and Daddy are always injuring themselves, and they'll need me to learn to man the knife early for the sake of their fingers (oddly, they still have them all)! Way to prove her right, Daddy...and in only about 12 hours! Mommy knew it was really bad when he first came in the house looking like he might pass out at any second. Plus, he never wants to get stitches, no matter how bad the cut is. Funny thing, after he got home, he didn't even remember most of his conversation with Mommy! Tough guy that he is, he was back out in the woods later the same day. There were only a few times where moving his hand a certain way gave him unexpected, severe pain. I think I only grabbed it twice. It looked like his finger was shoved in a hot dog bun the first few days, and he kept waving it around like a giant number one. I just had to get a closer look. I'm sorry, Daddy...you're MY number one! He's glad to finally have the stitches out, but his finger still requires some healing. Can't wait to see which finger he tries to take out next year!