Dear Stephen,
I know it has been an interesting christmas, with those whistling and crashing noises and the green leafy things falling in the garden, but I think you are having a good year:
- You got fed at 3 am just so we could get some sleep.
- you woke the family up again at five for snuggles
- you chased your sister up the tree
- you got into your catnip present early and woke us up again at seven.
But stealing the butter off the plate of ingredients I was getting ready to make mince pies with was the topper. I didn't know you had got into the room or that you could reach that high until my husband choked and pointed at the cat-like thing with its head over the edge of the table sinking fangs into its yellow prey, which was then dragged off to an awful fate. It's not even ten o'clock, Mr. butter-whiskers
So my apologies for spoiling your day, but we've moved the turkey. Thank heavens it was still wrapped.
Regards,
Your rather annoyed staff.
P.S. You are thirteen years old. Humans grow out of this by five.