Nibbles swirls around with the frying pan and ladle larger than his head yelling, “I make dosssa, I make rottti”. His momentum is thwarted by a boring white wall, and he rediscovers the joy of clang-clanging metal against wooden construction to create a spiral of dents that feed directly off the security deposit. Being the ever-composed, reasonable adult, I totally flip the lid off my frying pan and start the screaming match.
NP: “No Nibbles!”
Nibbles: “No Nibbles!”
NP: “What are you doooing?”
Nibbles: “What you doooing?”
NP: “Don’t do that”
Nibbles: “Don’t do that”
NP: “Stop it”
Nibbes: “Stop it”
NP: (pauses, grins then bursts out excitedly) “Nibbles! That’s it – that’s the shadow game. How did you figure it out? Did you figure it out? I suppose there is a genetic predisposition to being annoying, but – yay!”
Nibbles: (stares up silently, defeated then proceeds to clang-clang away while I watched proudly)