Snowballs

One of my colleagues has a daughter of twelve and a newish baby, just a few months old.

They lives in the countryside and, one day last week, decided to go for a walk even though there was snow on the ground. They bundled the baby into one of those baby ski-suit things and wrapped him up all cosy and warm in his pushchair, and set off down a country lane.

Suddenly, over the hedge, appeared a gang of tall teenage lads, all clutching snowballs and grinning. They could see my colleague and her daughter, but not the pushchair with the baby in, because of the height of the hedge.

My colleague held up her hand to stop them.

"Don't throw the snowballs, please. There's a baby in a pushchair here and you can't see him."

The boys all muttered amongst themselves and my colleague was suddenly very nervous. Even more so when they all rushed through a nearby gate and surrounded the pushchair.

Then, all together, the whole gang spoke, in their deep voices.

And what they said was "Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaw!"

And then they said "Oh, he's so CUTE!" "How old is he?" "Does he like the snow?" "Can he sit up yet?" "What does he like to eat?"

And then they went on their gangly way.