Mr. Right was standing up and bending forward at his waist. In his arms was swinging The Pixie, her little bum cradled in his hands. She was laughing and looking up at him.
Unfortunately it was not to last because Mr. Right announced, "OK this is the last swing because your pants are falling down."
She used her little bell voice, "They're not pants, it's a skoit!"
Mr. Right, a grown man, looking very handsome in his black argyle sweater looked down at the little person he was swinging back and forth and who loves him completely and said, "Hmmm, yes, well your skoit is falling down then."