Henry

So, Henry decided to eat dinner whilst sitting upon on the dirty rug by our back door. We debated about it, and then I realized that I don't care where he eats if, in fact, he eats. So, yep, he ate, and in the middle of dinner he informed me that he "might be back in a minute".
"But Henny, you're eating. Where are you going?" I ask.
"Henny be right back, I told you I be right back." He says as he promptly gets up, walks across the room, and peers into the living room to look at Baby Walter in his swing.
"He's okay." He says as he turns around and appearing more at ease, returns to his dinner on the dirty rug...
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A typical conversation:
Henry: Mama, you feed Walter milk?
Me: Yep. Walter is hungry.
Henry: Walter hongy? Well, yes, he drink milk, Mama. I talking about youuuuu--.

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Henry and I dug up the last of the season's potatoes last night. Mosquitoes all over - we finally ran inside to cover up with deet-free citronella spray and ran back outside allowing only about 50 mosquitoes inside on our way out. Every potato brought about a squeal of excitement as he created a "tato" pile, and dug beside me with his red shovel.

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I'm downstairs doing work. Henry is upstairs hollering to someone to "Watch your fingers! Watch your fingers!" It's a bizarre thing to hear your words coming out of a 2 year old's mouth.