Everyone who goes to that park knows that it’s a pirate-ship plank.

Everyone.

Or at least they did until today.

The boys were lined up. Spiderman in front, with DorkySon second, and Lightning McQueen bringing up the rear.

They stood patiently, waiting their turn, assuming their fiercest, most swashbuckling pose, and then launching themselves along the plank, crashing to the sand below with a bellow.

But today there was a problem.

Two little girls – one in pastel leggings with matching top and gold sandals, the other in something pink and sparkly – settled themselves down in the middle of the plank, leaned their heads together, and started to chat.

The boys looked at each other, bemused.

‘Excuse me,’ said Spiderman.

No response.

‘Could you move please?’ asked Lightning McQueen.

Nothing.

‘EXCUUUUUUSE MEEEEEE,’ said Spiderman, DorkySon and Lightning McQueen in indignant unison.

Not a word.

The girls glared up at them, unsmiling.

‘Let’s just do it over here instead,’ said DorkySon, gesturing to a spot a few feet away. It didn’t have the long runup of the proper plank, but it did still allow a decent jump into the sand, with ample opportunity for throaty roars on the way down.

The boys all shuffled over.

Peace was restored.

Not ten seconds later, before Spiderman had even brushed away the sand from his first jump, the girls hopped off the original plank.

One threw a smile over her shoulder, and they walked away.