When I was about 5 or 6, I had a wart on my hand. It was bothering me so my mum said rub some meat on it and go and bury it in the garden.
So half an hour later Mom found me sitting in the garden with my thumb in the ground! Apparently I asked her how long my thumb needed to stay there.
Mind you I was always a literal child. I also remember at about the same time being on a bus and asking Mom why some people were called black and some white, because we are pink and brown? I never understood why people are anything other than people, colour did not matter, and I still feel the same today.
Life is strange, our thought processes can be confused. Sometimes literal is right, other times it’s not. It’s all about context….