(Untitled)

[dracolicious]

Potter has made stew. I can no longer move without fear of sloshing like a cauldron of . . . partially digested stew. Naturally, this has made me irresistible to every ankle-biter in the house with a penchant to launch themselves directly onto the torso of unsuspecting victims

Comments

[boywholives]

So, how poor are we after that little shopping excursion today?

[dracolicious]

. . . Don't ask questions when you don't want to hear the answer.

[boywholives]

Do we have enough leftover to buy food next month?

[dracolicious]

I'm sure we'll manage.

[boywholives]

You need to go on a diet anyway.

[dracolicious]

Nonsense. I'm as svelte as I've ever been.

[boywholives]

Yes, but I know what happens every holiday, so...

[dracolicious]

. . . And what's that, Potter?

[boywholives]

You gain half a stone and then spend the first part of the new year whingeing about how obese you are.

[dracolicious]

Well, then. Perhaps I'll have to give myself a good reason to put on half a stone by the new year.

[boywholives]

So you've been thinking about having another baby as well? Excellent, we're in agreement, then.

[dracolicious]

I haven't agreed to anything. There's a perfectly fine assortment of children free to a good home at the orphanage if you're feeling broody.

[boywholives]

You want to agree, though. I can see it in your eyes.

[dracolicious]

I don't always get what I want, and neither do you.

[boywholives]

I pretty much do, actually.

[dracolicious]

Occasionally, perhaps.