Tracey and Rick haven't long moved in, and half their belongings and most of little Timmy's toys are still in boxes. He doesn't mind: the boxes are his castle and he shoots invisible arrows at his mother as she emerges from the bathroom.
"Let me get some clothes on before you kill me," Tracey laughs, "I want to die decent."
Timmy's not listening. He's heard a tiny sound coming from one of the boxes and he's trying to work out which one.
Tracey's in the bedroom by now, waking Rick, who groans.
"Rise'n'shine, Ricky. It's Monday."
His only reply, "Noooo."