Conversations With Henry II

Henry is talking up a storm and continues to be our primary source of comic relief.   Sometimes it's hard to tell whether he's being funny on purpose or if he's dead serious when he says these ridiculous things.

We're at the dinner table finishing some blueberry cobbler.  Henry gets out of his chair and starts toward the living room.
Me: Henry!  Don't even think about going near my white couch until your hands are clean.
[Five second pause]
Henry: I'm thinkin' about it.

We're drawing at his little table in the basement.
Me: What should I draw?
Henry: Draw a owl just like Pooh with the books.
[I apply my limited artistic skills to draw an owl]
Henry: Tha's not an owl.  Tha's just a bird.

We're reading at bedtime.  I start Goodnight Moon while he's yammering over me and doesn't hear the beginning.
Henry:  No, Mama.  "INTHEGREATGREENROOMTHEREWASTELEPHONEANDREDBABLOON.  YOU SAY THAT."

He's standing on his kitchen stand, helping me cook on the butcher block.  He's stark naked (yeah, I know, high sanitation standards around here).  I had asked him two minutes earlier if he needed to go to the bathroom.  Then he pees all over the cutting boards stacked on the shelf below the butcher block.
Me: Henry!  What the heck!?!?!  I just asked you if you needed to potty.
Henry:  It's okay mama.  You're okay.  Can I get a little hug from you?

We're iChatting with Grandma and Grandpa.  Ingrid had been sick and had a fever.
Henry:  Ingrid is not feeling good.
Grandma and Grandpa: What's wrong with her?
Henry:  Her bum is a little warm.
[Now, dear reader, take a moment to think about how you take a baby's temperature.]

Elaine was heading out the door after visiting one morning.
Elaine: Bye, Henry!  Can I come see you again soon?
Henry: Sure, we'll be around.


And a couple of really old ones that I want to write down before I forget them:

Henry loves fried eggs for breakfast.  Sometimes he'll eat two or three at a sitting.  Seriously, what toddler likes runny yolks?  He loves to stab it and "let the smoke out."

But this guy?  His name is Yolk.




Just after Christmas, when we saw all of the cousins, Henry and I were in his room and he was talking about something I couldn't understand.  I kept asking him to repeat it until he finally took my face in both of his hands, got really close to me, and said in the same hyper-enunciated diction you'd use with a mentally deficient foreign-language speaker: "E-THAN-AND-DY-LAN"

We're standing in the kitchen and Henry points to a random spot on the wall.
Henry: Mama, it's an alligator!
Me: Woo, an alligator!
Henry, waving his little hands around: These are all alligators.
Me: Whoa, where did all these alligators come from?
Henry: The Library of Congress.