The one that got away

Christmas lunch was splendid with everyone chipping in with the preparations.

I was in charge of the sprouts.

This Christmas (his twentieth), the Boy only managed to eat one of his customary two.

Which was one more than his sister ate.

Sprouts.

You either love them or hate them.

I happen to love them.

So does Buzz, our cat.

Though he prefers to chase his around the floor.

When he's not pretending to be a Christmas decoration, that is.