The Grumpy Snowman

Once upon a time, there was a grumpy snowman. He didn't like having carrots shoved in his face. He didn't like having twigs shoved in his sides. And what he hated most of all was itchy old scarves around his neck. The problem was, he wasn't able to show on his face how unhappy he was about these things, because when he was made, the horrible little children who made him "forgot" to give him a mouth. Or eyes.

"Bah!" thought the Grumpy Snowman (in his cold and frosty brain); "How I would love to tell those horrible little children what stupid and inconsiderate snowman makers they are!"

But of course, he was only able to think the above, because as has been mentioned, he didn't have a mouth. And even if he did, snowman mouths are normally made of stones, which aren't very good for speaking with anyway.

"Mummy, look!" shouted one of the horrible little children - who happened to be a six year old girl called Cheryl. "We've made a lovely snowman!"

"'Lovely'?" thought the Grumpy Snowman. "You have no idea..."

Then the horrible-little-girl-called-Cheryl's eight-year-old-brother, Augustus, bounded out of the house with a crusty old hat in his gloved hands and plonked it roughly onto the Grumpy Snowman's head, causing a mini avalanche of snow to crumble from his 'cheeks' onto the ground.

Some of the crumbled fallen snow coalesced into tiny little perfectly formed snowpeople.

"Hello!" said one of the tiny little snowpeople, in a tiny little squeaky voice.

The children were not around at this point to hear the tiny little snowperson's tiny little squeaky voice. The Grumpy Snowman somehow knew this, although he had no eyes and, come to think of it, no ears. Snowman Sense. Or something.

"Um..." thought the Grumpy Snowman, grumpily; "hello."

"I might be a magical tiny little snowperson," said the tiny little snowperson; "but I'm not psychic."

"So how did you know I was thinking, 'hello'?" thought the Grumpy Snowman.

"But I am highly intuitive," said the tiny little snowperson; "so I imagine you are at this very moment engaging in some kind of imaginary dialogue with me, inside you snowy head, on account of the fact that telepathy, although impractical, is your only potential means of communication, due to your lack of mouth."

"Pardon?" thought the Grumpy Snowman - who only understood about the first five words of what the tiny little snowperson had just said.

"Never mind," said the tiny little snowperson - upon which, it leapt supernaturally up to the Grumpy Snowman's face, hovered in front of it and, with the small stick that no one had previously mentioned it was holding, quickly sketched out a mouth, some eyes and, whizzing around to both sides of the Grumpy Snowman's head, some ears.

"There," said the tiny little snowperson, with an air of self-satisfaction, as it floated back to the ground, dropped the stick and brushed off its hands. "Rudimentary, I know, but they'll do for now."

"Ahem," the Grumpy Snowman coughed, experimentally. "Okay thanks and all that - but why bother? I mean, why do you care?"

"That you have sense organs?" said the tiny little snowperson. "Or that you are one Grumpy son-of-a-snowball?"

"Um... well..."

"I care... because I was made to care..."

"Eh?"

"You've not yet asked who or what I am."

"Well I presumed..."

"What?"

"I dunno, actually."

"You presumed nothing. You didn't consider. Your grumpiness inhibits you from perceiving anything beyond your narrow, all-consuming ego."

"What the-"

"You don't care about anything but being grumpy!"

"I have every right to be grumpy!"

"Do you?"

"I was made without mouth, eyes or ears! And that's not even to mention the stick-and-carrot-shoving, the itchy old scarves, this ratty old hat and the fact that my life consists of standing in one spot for the duration of the few short days of winter when the temperature permits my physical integrity, followed by a slow a humiliating melty death! What, I ask you, what is there to not be grumpy about?!"

"You are a snowman!"

"Well thank you, Captain Obvious!"

"You were created with love. You give pleasure to children and, by proxy, the grown ups who care for them. Yes, you have a short and inactive life, and the stick-and-carrot-shoving can be a bit painful, and the itchy old scarves and the ratty old hats a bit irritating... but what greater purpose could you serve? What better reason to be in this complex but beautiful world? Happiness! The entire reason for your existence. How can you not yourself be happy at this?"

"Well... um..."

"Hang on, the kids are coming back... I'm a snow fairy, by the way... Think about what I've said, eh?"

"Wait! Just..."

But then the tiny little snow fairy crumbled to snowy dust.

 

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Cheryl looked at the snowman she and Augustus had made. She put her head to one side and frowned. It looked somehow... different. She presumed Augustus had drawn on the mouth and eyes and ears when he had put on the hat, but it wasn't just that. The snowman looked somehow... happier.

"What a beautiful snowman!" said Cheryl's mum, who had just walked out of the house with a camera, ready to take a photo of her children with their creation, to upload to the family blog. "I think it's your best yet... Augustus, come and stand with your sister and your snowman, for a picture!"

Augustus put down his Xbox controller, came out of the house and stood by the snowman. Cheryl stood on the other side.

"What?" said Augustus, turning towards his sister.

"I didn't say anything," said Cheryl.

"But you just-"

Then his eyes flitted onto the face of the snowman. The snowman who, when he had last seen it, had sticking out of the front of its head a carrot-nose, and plonked on top a hat, but no other features. The snowman who now had the beginnings of a carved smile, two little dots for eyes and snowy little lumps for ears.

As Augustus watched, as Cheryl turned to face her brother, but her eyes also flitted onto the face of the snowman... the corners of the snowman's smile... ever so slightly... turned up.

Cheryl then looked at Augustus and Augustus looked at Cheryl.

"Say cheese!" said their mum, as she held up the camera.

Cheryl and Augustus smiled at each other, then turned and beamed at the camera.

"Cheeeeeese!" they both said, as the camera clicked.

When their mum later uploaded the pic to the family blog, she called it Three Winter Smiles.

 

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