It took them another three attempts to get what they both deemed were acceptable
“Hey. Coal.” With raised eyebrows, Hannah held up the two lumps of coal that
had come in his snowman kit. “Get a good long look because this is what you’re getting
He couldn’t stop smiling at her. A dozen times each hour today, he’d wished he
could slow down time because he wanted to spend more time with Hannah—he needed
that. She was singing Frosty the Snowman with a carefree abandon he’d never felt before.
If only he didn’t have the end of the year looming over him.
“Okay, pass me his corn cob pipe,” she said.
He pulled the “pipe” out of the box and stared at it. “Our snowman is a smoker?
And this is a kids’ song?”
“It was written back before people worried about things like their lungs,” she said,
reaching for it.
He pulled it away. No. It wasn’t right. “His days are already numbered, and he’s
playing with fire—actual fire?”
“Ohhhh, right.” She tilted her head. “Wow, that does make him a bit of a rebel,
doesn’t it? I bet the snowladies were all suitably impressed.”
Zeit looked around. There were mortal children all around. Young impressionable
mortal children. He put the pipe back in the box.
“Or he’s not really a rebel. He likes to play things safe. Then again,” she tapped
his coal eyes, “he did earn his coal. Maybe he’s got nothing to prove. There should be
buttons in the box.”
He pulled off his glove to search through the bottom of the box, pulling out three
buttons. “What is he buttoning up?” he asked as he handed them to Hannah.
She’d started pressing the buttons into his middle snow section, but she stopped
and bit her lip as she stared at the round button still in her hand. Finally, she shrugged and
pushed the last one in. “I think you’re overanalyzing this.”
“Or it’s a mortal tradition that could use some scrutiny.” He held out the faux
carrot that came in his kit.
“But, look, he’s healthy. A carrot.”
“Is he going to eat his own nose?”
“I can’t do this with you now.”