Early one Sunday morning, Mr F was sitting in his underwear wrapped in a blanket, something he likes to do and so gets every now and then to do as a treat. He began to get a bit mischievous (we call it frittery): messing with stuff, wanting to play with the water, trying to dump out the coffee pot. After the third intervention I said to him:
You've got to be good. You keep getting in trouble, I'm gonna make you wear clothes.