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After eating a balanced lunch of Chef Boyardee ravioli, half a PB&J and a handful of strawberries, Henry patted his belly and said, sighing with pleasure, “Now DAT was yummy, Mommy.”
Henry: “My belly aches.” 
Liam (casually to the table at large): “Maybe he’ll vomit.”
Mary (with a withering look at her eldest son): “Let’s hope not.”
Nora: “What’s vomit?”
Liam: “When you throw up.”
Nora: “Throw up what?”
Liam: “Throw up the food you ate. Also known as puking, hurling, and tossing your cookies.”
I am raising such lovely conversationalists. Looking on the bright side, at least he gave the right definition.
“Eeeewwww. Be mindful of that cheese.” 
Liam to his siblings after trying my current favorite: Cabot’s horseradish cheddar.
Henry: “Whaths in dere?”
Mary: “Nothing. It’s steak.”
Henry: “Ith it…BLOOD!?”
Mary: “Yup.”
Henry: “Yuck!”
Brendan (sardonically): “Henry is just realizing that Mommy is a carnivore.”
Nora (conversationally): “You know turkey?”
Henry (warily): “Yeah?”
Nora: “Well, when you eat turkey, that’s when you’re eating turkey. An’ you know? It’s pretty good.”
Henry: “I want thome thalad.”
“Firtht, I thtab it over da bowl…(pause)…Yeah, I got it!”
Henry was learning to use our cherry pitter.
OINKtales 
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