strip poker

It was a bad idea. I said poker wasn’t my forte. After half an hour Vickie was still fully clad in her tee shirt and romper, Amelia was pulling on a coat that almost concealed her nappy, and I was down to a hard choice. William had given up pushing his car around the nursery floor and was paying rapt attention to the developing scene.
“We’ll let you off the bra,” said Amelia, “Wouldn’t want to be unkind. There’s another nappy over there. Should fit you. At least enough to save your blushes. No plastic pants though, none your size; you’ll just have to hold it. Well, go on then Sister!” I went on. I couldn’t argue.

We were all four of us sitting around the rug in our nappies when Emma walked in.