Deficient

Shmoo started crying at the kitchen table today while I was making his lunch.

Me: What's wrong? Why are you crying?

Shmoo: I don't have enough fingers to show someone when I turn fifteen! Waaaaaah! Waaaah!

Me: (Trying so hard not to laugh but not succeeding) Baby, you don't have enough fingers to show someone when you turn ELEVEN. But don't worry, when you get that old, you stop showing people with your fingers. You just tell them your age with your big boy words, ok?

Shmoo: (Sniffling) Ok, but it makes me really sad. (Sniff, sniff)