It was a Sunday morning like any other in the Poste household. Mom made breakfast while Tina, the youngest, bounced around like a possessed rubber ball. Her sister, Meg, slowly emerged from the nest of blankets and teddy bears she called bed. Dad was conspicuously absent from the table; it took the girls a full five minutes to find him to tell him breakfast was ready. He arrived on the scene with a tattered notebook in hand.
Mom ignored it, but the girls pestered their father to find out what was in the book. Pleading turned to demanding and a promise was extracted; the girls would learn the secret once they were done with breakfast and - crucially - done washing and drying the dishes. Their curiosity fueled their imagination which turned into intense speculation between bites of pancakes and eggs, between sips of milk and juice. Was it a book of spells? Did they own an island in some remote kingdom? Perhaps it was a book that proved they were some sort of royalty! This last idea had the two calling each other 'princess' as new ideas took shape.
After breakfast, the girls' father leaned back, crossed his legs, and asked the two princesses to make good on their promise to clean up. They did so with gusto - if not precision. Both were fairly soaked after the task, but in good spirits. Their mother asked them to clean themselves up and they begrudgingly complied - it would certainly be the last thing before they got to see what Dad had in his possession.
Cleaned up, dried off, and upbeat, the two girls hovered over their father. After a fair bit of teasing ("are you sure you want to see it? Extra sure?") they mystery was uncovered. A wallpaper catalog was opened to the fanfare of stereo groans.