First, my father-in-law sent up a bucket of home grown spuds from his garden. An earlier batch, cooked with a roast, provided some of the best taters I've ever had. Who needs Idaho, my own private or otherwise.
The tomatoes are from the same source but that's a post for another day.
My second potato encounter was with one of the couch variety. I caught my two-year-old studying the ways of the American male in its natural habitat: on the couch, in front of the TV. Note the remote is only nearby and not in hand. He's still learning.
Wearing the shades and having one shoe off I think demonstrates some good improvisational sloth. The boy has talent.