Sometimes it's adorable, like when he kept yelling "Snow White!" to our waitress at the little sandwich place down the street last night. He was genuinely upset when she disappeared into the kitchen, and called "Wo-white!"
And sometimes I have to hear about something secondhand, but that doesn't make it any less funny. Yesterday my parents were bringing Harry home when they stopped at the ATM machine. Harry did the only sensible thing one does when a moving car stops next to a building and the window is rolled down: ask for French fries.
Finally, there's this little number:
And FYI, the new rug covers up a big ol' vomit spot from last week.