JB and JR, they were supposed to be doing the washing-up.

But JB was being annoying. JR asked him to help him out but he just stood there beside JR who was trying to gather his focus on the dishes. He'd made a snide comment about the way JR worked, and this baby-faced boy had retaliated with the only weapon available at that time – by slapping a soapy hand across JB's cheek.

By the time the rest of their family returned. The kitchen was soaked – the dishes weren't washed – and the washing up bowl was full of plates.

And there were two grown men – dripping wet, covered in suds, propped together against the kitchen wall and laughing like five-year-olds who'd just discovered the best thing in the world.

Or maybe they had. Who knew.