Babies Aren't Fluffy

When does Christmas begin?  Some would say when the deckos and tree go up. In that case, there will be no Christmas at Nellybert's for there is no tree, no deckos. I excused myself because of Woody, the new kitten who is far more fun than Christmas trees and who would demolish a tree just as he is destroying my chilli plant by breaking its branches and batting all its baubles (ripening chillis) to the ground. He has yet to bite into one. 

Ben is very enamoured of Woody which is as it should be as it was him and his beloved who rescued the tiny kitty from the main street in Portglenone and brought him to us. He was cuddling Woody on Sunday, cradling the kitten like an infant, and Woody was loving it. I said,

Just think Ben. In a few years you might just be cuddling a real live baby.

He said,

I don't think so. Babies aren't as good as kittens. They're not fluffy.

Meanwhile, in homes from Dingle to Norfolk, people of all ages, kittenless people are putting up their Christmas trees and wreathes, real trees, vintage trees, arty trees, with hand-crafted ornaments, heirloom baubles, felted mice, stars, fairies, coloured lights, white lights and tinsel strands. I'm slightly envious. Next year, definitely next year - unless Ben and Sara find me another kitten.   

Trees and wreathes from the fam whatsapp. At least one of those trees was grown from seed by one of us. It wasn't me.