That's Gross

Back story:  My dad has always been a bike rider. When I was 16, he was hit by a 16 year-old driver while teaching bicycle safety to Boy Scouts. The truck was totaled and my dad nearly was too. He rolled over the truck, flew through the air, and landed on his back with his foot on his chest.  One of his many injuries was the broken femur which made that possible. 

Back in the present day, Rigby was asking me questions about broken bones: Can you cut bones with scissors?  Do you need a sword?  Jake has a broken arm, but he doesn't even have a cut; how does a trampoline break your arm?  Have you ever had a broken bone?

We like to tell the kids grandpa's bike story to scare them into wearing their helmets. Someday, I will tell them the part of the story about witnessing his prescribed morphine withdrawal so the will stay away from drugs. In this conversation, I reminded Rigby that Grandpa has broken his leg. 

Rigby: "Oh yeah!  And his foot was on his chest."

Me, nodding: "Mm Hmm. Pretty gross, huh?"

Rigby: "How is that gross?"

Me: "His foot was on his chest!"

Rigby thought for a minute, and then smiled and nodded, "Oh yeah!  Gross!  He could smell his foot!"