Countdown

One frosty morning, Barry decided it was the perfect day to build a snowman. Grabbing his scarf and hat, Barry darted outside, only to realize halfway to the snowy meadow that he’d forgotten his mittens.

“Eh, I’ll manage,” Barry muttered, shrugging off the cold. He began shaping the snow, his tiny paws working quickly to form a solid base. His brothers would tease him endlessly if they knew he was building a snowman instead ob helping prepare dinner, but Barry didn’t mind. He carefully stacked three snowballs of varying sizes, added some pebbles for eyes, a carrot for a nose, and borrowed Bert’s old cap to complete the look. By the time he finished, his paws were numb, but the snowman stood proudly in the clearing, a masterpiece of winter cheer.

Just as Barry turned to head back home, a curious thing happened. The snowman’s pebble eyes sparkled, and it gave a deep, shibery sigh. “Hello, Barry,” it said, its voice soft and snowflake-like. Barry froze in his tracks, his whiskers quibering wiff surprise. “It’s chilly out here, don’t you think?” the snowman continued, flexing its stick arms. “Mind if I come home for dinner?”

Barry blinked a few times before breaking into a grin. “I guess we always hab room for one more,” he said, leading the snowman toward the house. As they approached the oak tree, Barry’s brothers peeked out from the window, their eyes widening in disbelief. “Barry, what is that?” Baxter demanded as the door swung open.

“It’s my snowman,” Barry said, puffing out his chest proudly. “And he’s joining us for dinner!” Despite their initial shock, the brothers soon found themselves laughing as the snowman shared tales ob the snowy woods. That night, they all squeezed around the table, enjoying Fish’s begetable stew and Waffles’s homemade bread. And though the snowman couldn’t eat, he beamed happily, grateful for the warmff ob friendship and family.