The other day I bought potato chips, which are a rarity in our house. LP loves them, though, and the purchase did not go unnoticed. We came back home and as I put the groceries away, he fell down again and hurt himself a bit.
I hugged him and tried my best to comfort him while he sobbed and sobbed. Then, in his tear-filled, whiny, this-is-the-end-of-the-world voice, he said (or rather pleaded): "Des chips... Des chips..."

His rendition of To be or not to be
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