Cute

Stan is three and my impression is that his elder sister took to English better than him when she was his age, maybe it's a "boy" thing.
Be that as it may, I do try to maintain at least my half of the dialogue with him in English. However, sometimes it is too easy to lapse into French, as I did this morning when he wanted to know what the alarm clock was called, although I do try to redeem myself afterwards:
"C'est quoi, ça?"
"C'est un radio-reveil."
Without hesitation he repeats it in order to commit it to memory: "Radio-réveil".
Whoops, come on now: "In English it's called an 'alarm clock'. Can you say that."
"Non."
"Go on. 'Alarm clock'."
Maybe it's because we'll soon be visiting the folks in England who don't speak a word of French. But a brief look of contemplation flashes over his features and he utters tentatively:
"Alarm plop?"
Gotta love 'em.