"Charlie! Look at this! Isn't it brilliant?" Charlie sighed, setting his mug onto the counter and following the sound of his dad's voice into the living room.

"That's a T.V, Dad."

"Yes, I know what it is. But look!" His dad gestured wildly at the thing, but Charlie couldn't figure out what exactly it was that he was indicating.

"Ye-es," he drew the word out, "I have one at home… what's…"

"No, but look!"

"What? Dad, I-"

"It's like a portrait!" He explained excitedly, clearly having given up on Charlie ever guessing the right answer. "You can hang them on the wall now!" Charlie was beginning to get a bad feeling about this.

"Did you run this by Mum?" he asked, somewhat hesitantly.

"I don't need to run everything by your mother," his dad replied absently, still fiddling with the telly. He paused briefly, probably thinking through what he had just said. "I'll go ask her."

"Alright," Charlie replied, sceptically, not really liking his dad's chances.

His dad disappeared into the kitchen, and Charlie could hear the quiet murmur of his voice as he spoke.

"You most certainly will not!"