Hamfeet

Walker loves watching Curious George. One day while watching, he and Carla had an interesting conversation. I think it went sort of like this:
Walker: Mom, why does George have hamfeet?
Carla: What?
Walker: Why does George have hamfeet?
Carla: What are hamfeet?
Walker: You know, hamfeet.
Carla: What?
Walker takes off his socks, then in his condescending, just-try-to-understand-this tone: Mom, Mom. Look at my feet. I don't have hands on my feet. George has hands on his feet. Hamfeet.

Move forward about 4 or 5 months to yesterday. I laid out 2 pairs of his underwear (or 4 underwears) side-by-side on the floor to let him pick which ones he wanted to wear.
Kurt: Walker, which ones do you want, white with gray or white with blue?
Walker: Is this the white one?
Kurt: Well, that one's white with gray.
Walker: No, the white one.
Kurt: Those are white with gray. The other one's are white with blue. Which ones do you want?
Walker: No, is this the WHITE one!?
Kurt: I give up.
Walker, the gears grinding in his little brain: Dad, against left.
Kurt: Oh, the RIGHT one?
Walker: Yeah, white (geez, my parents are simple).
They were, and he picked them, not because they were white and gray, but because they were on the white (right).