The following post was written by ten-year-old Cornflower. She has dedicated it to Javamom and Sister Lynn. ;o)
Hearing the whistle of the kettle on the stove on a snowy morning tells you to get your blanket and your tea and snuggle up on the couch in your nightclothes. In a Christmas mug you quietly slurp your tea. You feel the cool chill in your body. You watch the snow come down to the ground. You decide to go outside with your tea. You want to do more with your tea, but to your surprise, your tea is gone. You get more tea and do everything over.