Harry's First Word
Number Four Privet Drive was the home of Vernon and Petunia Dursley, two very normal people. The house itself was littered with images of what seemed to be a round pink beach ball. The Dursleys' son, Dudley, who, on this sunny afternoon, sat in a highchair alongside his black haired, green eyed cousin, Harry Potter. Dudly was screaming 'no' over and over again between intervals of wailing as he threw handfuls of porridge from his bowl at the walls and banged his sippy cup on the top of his chair. Harry was watching mildly while trying to feed himself with a plastic spoon. Every now and then he managed to get some of his own porridge into his mouth, though, as he was only a baby and his arms tended to flail a little as most baby's arms do, most of his meal was going down the front of his shirt.
Petunia Dursley was trying to feed Dudley and calm him at the same time. Giving no mind to the quieter boy who she was also supposed to be feeding, as Harry didn't cry often, compared to Dudley, who, by his current age of one had leared that by screaming, crying and throwing things he tended to get whatever he wanted. Harry, on the other hand, just watched.
"Duddykins, let Mummy feed you!" Petunia exclaimed in a sickeningly sweet baby voice.
"NO!"
The sippy cup flew at Petunia, bounced off her head and clattered to the floor, rolling across the polished wood to disappear under the table. By the time Petunia wrestled Dudley into a completely sitting position and managed to quiet him with a promise of chocolate pudding. Petunia retreated to the fridge to get out one of the snack packs of pudding and when she turned, Harry, who was covered from nose to naval in porridge, and with a partially toothless grin on his face, his spoon pointed at Dudley, screamed:
"UGGY!!"
