A story of make-believe, or is it? Whenever the children hanker for candy or other treats, they stand below Lucky's treehouse and yell "yoo hoo" while they laugh and dance on the ground below observing Lucky in his oversize lounge chair and smoking a big cigar and sipping a martini. Their entreaties are usually accompanied by them teasing their father about being silly or unworthy of their mother or guilty of some other make-believe transgression and should submit to Lucky's care in one of his many chambers as he calls them. These are hideouts richly furnished to cater to his needs and whims and where he can stash the father while the mother enjoys life unencumbered.
The children wonder if Lucky secretly likes Father, as they call him, and maybe is just full of playful bluster, which he denies of course insisting that he himself was raised by Mother and she being a single one at that.
This time of year in particular the children bow to Lucky's insistence and say things like "We can't stand you, Father," and then whisper "kiss-kiss, you're the best father in the whole wide world" since Lucky's treehouse is always full of candy for the upcoming Halloween holiday. And when they ask if Halloween itself is coming soon, Bee the family matriarch counters if they ask again she will make them study their multiplication tables. So then they cry and wipe their tears and kiss the Bee and give her bones. She is a dog, after all.
Whenever and wherever, the children are always happy children, singing and dancing and holding hands and kissing each other on the cheek and eating candy to their hearts' content in the knowledge they will never grow old, Lucky and the Bee watching over them in this little paradise.
