“Oh oh,”

“Potter! Look at this mess, what were you doing?” I gesture.

Potter points at the overturned bowl and looks up at me.

“Oh oh.”

“Yes, thank you for stating the obvious!”

“Dada, oh oh,”

“Stop calling me dada, I am not your father!”

“Owt!”

“Wait.”

“Owt owt owt!” Potter screams and squirms in his highchair.

“Patience is a virtue, Potter,” I scold him half-heartedly and spelled the mess away.

“Owt!”

“Will you…bloody hell!”

“Blah-ee owt”

I turn to the demanding little brat and groan.

“Dada! Owt”

“For heaven sakes, will you please give me one moment of peace?”