not as grown up as he would like to think he is

I was watching my elder lad jog from the garage to the mailbox, thinking about how grown-up he was looking running that way (being almost *five* and all), when *splat* down he went on his hands and knees.  He popped back up, turned around, and wordlessly -- stoically -- came to me (a few steps behind him) for a hug and therapeutic kiss on his sore hand.  He's still my little guy-- for now, anyway.