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A snowman; that was what Adele Taylor wanted for Christmas. She had never built one before, nor had anyone built one for her, though she had lived in England the whole eight years of her life. She had always dreamt of waking up on Christmas morning and finding one in the snowy lawn in front of her house. It would have a nice, long carrot for a nose, a red Santa's hat on its round head, little black buttons for eyes, and a red coloured rope for its smiling mouth. She also imagined a scarf, a red one, wrapped around its non-existent neck. It would have hands made from tree branches, and four more black buttons lined up vertically on its white body.

She awoke one morning with pure determination. She was going to do it. She was going to build a perfect snowman in her parents' lawn. Most of the other kids on her street had a nice one; there was no reason for her to not have one as well. Walking slowly down the staircase, she carried a list she had written down the night before; what she would need to make this snowman.

"Good morning," Adele smiled cheerfully, sitting down at the dining table, where her father ate his pancakes, and her mother drank her coffee. Her parents seemed preoccupied, but they greeted her warmly. Adele put the list away as she quickly ate her breakfast. She needed all the time she could get if she were to complete her snowman.

"Daddy, I'm making a snowman today," Adele told her father, hoping for a positive reaction. "It's going to look great."

"That's nice, honey," her father replied, looking over today's newspapers.

"Would you like to help me?" Adele asked. She looked at her father, her expression eager. With his help, she would definitely finish it by this afternoon. It would also be a good opportunity to spend some time with him. After all, it was nearly Christmas, and she had only spoken to her father once, maybe twice, a day since November.

Her father sighed. "I can't, Adele," he said, not even looking at her. "Daddy has to work." He turned to his wife. "I'll be back late tonight. Don't wait up."

"Again?" Adele's mother groaned. "What's keeping you at that office?"

"Just a lot of work," he replied, putting the newspaper away. "In fact, I have to leave now. See you two later." And he left, but not before patting Adele gently on her head.

She turned to her mother. "Will you help me, Mum?"

Her mother blushed. "Not today, sweetheart," she said, clearing the plates from the table. "I have some work to do as well, but the good news is I'll

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