Mother Goose for the Millenium

Every night when I get home, a few kids from around the street are playing on the neighbour’s trampoline, in their pyjamas and slippers.
They’re about 10, 8 and 6, and although they have all sorts of games involving the two elder boys double-bouncing the younger, I’ve never heard any of them get hurt.
Last night I was cooking tea with the front door open to let the frying onion smell escape, and was having a sly eavesdrop of their hilarious conversations.
“Jack loves Dayna!”
“DO NOT!!”
“Do TOO!”
“It’s my turn….let me have a go…” this from the littlest one.
“Jack and Dayna up a tree….K-I-S-S-I-N-G!”.
There are sounds of wrestling.
“Jack and Dayna went up the hill to fetch a bottle of water. Don’t know what they did up there but now they’ve got a daughter!”
There is a silence, then the little one bursts into squeals of laughter. I am giggling, not only because they’re repeating the exact same songs we used to sing as kids, but also because in this modern age, a pail has become a bottle.
“Jack and Dayna went up the hill to fetch a bottle of water. Don’t know what they did up there but now they’ve got a daughter!!”
There is so much hysterical laughter that I can’t help it and laugh with them.
A tiny voice pipes up. “Jack and Dayna went up the hill to fetch a bottle of water…Jack fell down and broke….got a daughter?”
“That’s not how it goes, dumbass.” DOUBLE-BOUNCE.