My Name is Daniel

One weekend, my friend, who was a nurse, was looking after her six-year-old nephew when he fell off a playground slide and hit his head.

Worried that he might have a concussion, she checked him all night.

Every hour, she'd gently shake him and ask, "What's your name?"

Soon, he began moaning in protest each time she entered the room.

When she went in at 5:00 A.M., she saw something white on his face. Leaning close, she saw a crayon-scrawled message taped to his forehead.

It read: "My name is Daniel."