Nell: I thought this was supposed to be a day of rest.
Me: It is. Happy 4th Advent.
Nell: There’s some kind of wild fighting going on in the living room.
Me: It’s Poppy and Harriet. They’ve got the big cushion and the dog bed on the sofa and Poppy keeps leaping out and bouncing on Harriet.
Nell: Oh, I see. Well, that makes sense.
Me: Does it?
Nell: They’re playing Wild Shenanigans. It’s a little early and the wrong day, but fair enough.
Me: Is there a right day for Wild Shenanigans?
Nell: Yes, and Sunday isn’t it.
Me: No, probably not. You would think they would both be tired after your exciting rescue, wouldn’t you?
Nell: Poppy is rarely tired and I don’t know why you persist in calling it that. I was perfectly happy to enjoy my breakfast and wait for the sea tractor you know.
Me: We couldn’t let you wait, Nell. You were in danger from that dastardly duo.
Nell: Calm down. Dorothy and I are more than a match for them.
Me: I admire your confidence, but are you sure?
Nell: Yes, we absolutely destroyed them at Bridge.
Me: That’s just a card game.
Nell: I can’t believe you just said that. Bridge is so much more.
Me: If you say so. By the way, word on the street is that there will be no roast today.
Nell: But it’s Sunday and what street?
Me: It’s just a saying. Poppy says she is far too busy preparing for Christmas to be bogged down with parsnips and potatoes so she’s making a simple pasta dish.
Nell: Nobody eats pasta on a Sunday.
Me: Tell Poppy.
Nell: This is exactly why Sunday is not the right day for Wild Shenanigans. Standards simply slip.
Me: Yes. Sorry.
