Snips and snails etc.

Henry was ranging freely around the house this morning in the altogether, stroking his arms & his belly, the way one does, when he suddenly stopped to ask a question.
"What am I made of?"
Oh, dear. I made a stab at it. "You're made of skin and blood and bones and organs."
Which seemed, mostly, to satisfy him. He did want to see how far I was sticking to my story, by asking me what every single other person he could think of that he knows is made of. And then he threw in what he clearly knew was a trick question, slyly smiling. "What's Planty [Mom's cat] made of?" I said he was made of the same stuff as the rest of us, plus fur, at which point Henry moved on to another disquisition on butts for James's benefit.

(That's the same James, by the way, who is now pulling himself up to standing and then letting go--so that he can clap--and not falling down.)