“I have a frozen bum,” Little Tim’s expression appeared frozen too.
But we couldn’t stop smiling. We had just moved in here from tropical climes.
“What made you sit on that?”
“I thought it is soft, fluffy cotton. I needed it to decorate the Christmas tree.”
“Aren’t you excited we have a real Christmas tree, with real snow?”
“Only if I can get up from here …”
I lifted him in my arms, and took him inside close to the fireplace.
“Well, I have another idea …”
“We’ll have an ice cream party in the open. Let the guests bring their own flavors. Barbeques are so old world.”
No temperature in the world is low enough to freeze a child’s imagination.