When I was about 4, I was riding my big wheel with a raging hard-on. I was checking out this chick and wasn't looking where I was driving and I crashed, landing on Mr. Winky. I went home crying, all busted up, bleeding out of every orafice, but mostly concerned that I had broken my permanentely attached play-toy. My Mommy then told me it was only called a boner and that there actually wasn't a "bone" inside it. So don't worry, little Timmy, I doubt you broke your Winky either.