You sit on the living room sofa, playing with a small globe while George and Ringo are engrossed in a game of chess. Suddenly, with a curious look, you ask:

“Dad, how was I born?”

The sound of chess pieces falling fills the room. George and Ringo exchange alarmed glances, clearly unprepared for the question. George clears his throat, trying to buy time.

“Well, uh… You see, it’s a magical story.”

“Oh, absolutely magical,” Ringo chimes in, catching on. He abandons his role as George’s chess opponent and steps into the role of the storyteller. “Turns out, one day George and I were on tour in a very special place called Beatleland.”

“That’s when we found a golden egg,” Ringo continues, gesturing a rounded shape with his hands. “A huge one! Bigger than a Ludwig drum kit.”

“We decided to take it with us because, well, no one could just leave such a beautiful egg lying around,” George adds.

“Well, we had to incubate it with music,” Ringo says proudly. “George played guitar every day, and I drummed a special rhythm.”

“And then, one day, crack!,” George snaps his fingers. “There you were, absolutely perfect, with a smile even bigger than Ringo’s.”

Before you can respond, Dhani walks into the room, arms crossed and a teasing smile on his face.

“Are you seriously telling that golden egg story again?” Dhani asks, raising an eyebrow. “Dad, it’s becoming a classic.”