I was enjoying a lazy Saturday morning warmly tucked in bed when my daughter burst into the room and shook me urgently. What was the emergency? Daughter: Dad, I want you to come downstairs. Me: Why, has mum come back (from jogging)? Just in case you are wondering, earlier on, I had a small argument earlier with wife about my fitness habits (or lack thereof). Since I’ve never won a morning argument, I mumbled something about being as fit as a fiddle. She retorted, rather angrily, with; “…indeed you are pure muscle!” . I took this as compliment and promptly drifted back to random Corona thoughts. Anyway, my conversation with daughter continued unabated; Daughter: No dad, just come downstairs! Me: No, this is my morning to rest. Now, I don’t know whether this describes it properly, but without uttering another word, she gave me a look that lay somewhere between pleading and a warning (not sure how women do it). I promptly got out of bed. I got downstair