The toddler was heading towards them as fast as her legs could carry her. "Poppy," she cheered, reaching up towards her. "He's back again." Poppy stooped down to pick her up, balancing her on her hip. "Yes, Em, I know."
Em grinned at him. "Hello," she said cheerfully. She turned and patted Poppy's face. "He doesn't like George."
"Oh?" Poppy asked with a mischevious grin. "What did he say?" "He said he didn't like 10-year-olds. And George is 10. So he doesn't like George." "George is 7, sweetpea," she said, kissing Em's forehead. "Close enough."
Em's lower lip quivered, and Poppy laughed. "You're about to make my five-year-old sister cry," she said. "Smooth, Craw."
"An admirable skill," Poppy agreed, kissing her cheek. Em brightened, and she cocked her head. "I'm telling George."