'It hurts, it hurts, it hurts!' he exclaimed. And then to emphasise the point a little further, just in case I hadn't heard the first few dozen times 'It hurts!' I tried to give the matter the gravitas that he thought it deserved.
'Oh sweetie, that's look's dreadful! Come up to the bathroom and I'll give it a nice wash for you'.
What followed was a fifteen minute tussle to persuade him to have the cut gently cleansed whilst he jigged around in a resistive way. 'Aaaaah, it really stings!': 'No,no,no you're really hurting me now'. This ploy was effected just in case a Social Services child protection officer was within a ten radius to hear his screams. I was silently thinking that anthrax might be a little easier to treat.
'Do you know what the name Louis means?' I asked him.
'Wuse?' he ventured. He was surprised to hear that it's actually 'Brave Warrior'.
After the entire pallaver was over Louis turned round to me and stated, 'I don't think you know what real pain is'.
'Oh but I most definitely do,' I replied, citing childbirth, a torn cruciate ligament and 2011's major medical emergency as pithy examples. Louis looked at me pittingly.
'No.' he said witheringly as he held out his newly plastered hand. 'This is real agony.'
So it's official. Boy pain is far worse than anything women could experience ever!