Helpful Child

2.5 years ago when we moved here, the Headmaster had a car accident totalling the van and nearly totalling his arm. Several surgeries and a skin graft later we finished moving, but he still needed regularly therapy for over a year.

So picture us at a point just a couple of months after the final surgery. He still has very little use of his left hand and forearm. I generally help him get dressed, as he can't do his shirt buttons or his belt by himself.

One Sunday morning when I had helped him with all the fasteners we went to church and then went out to eat. The Headmaster and the FYB both went to the bathroom. The Boy came back out fairly shortly, but the Headmaster didn't return. And he didn't come back, and he didn't come back, and we began to wonder if he needed help with his belt or a button and if The Boy might not have left more quickly than his father intended.
So we asked The Boy, who was then just five, if he thought Daddy might be needing some help. He said he didn't know, should he go ask?

"Yes," I said, "but do it quietly." So he tiptoes *very* softly and **very**
quietly all the way across the restaurant, gets to the men's bathroom and yells at the top of his lungs, "DAD! DO YOU NEED SOME HELP IN THERE?"

And no, Daddy didn't need help. He was just taking longer because he didn't want any help.