A PERIOD OF MOURNING

Wilson spent much of yesterday evening and this morning staring morosely out of the window at the puddle which is all that now remains of his snowman.

Occasionally he'll say, 'I loved that little guy...'  and sigh.

Honestly, I wouldn't have been surprised if he'd hung a black crepe bow at the front door and covered the mirrors. Or at least started wearing a black arm-band.

The Bees are being very supportive to W at this difficult time, constantly plying him with hot chocolate and ant cookies, and telling him that they're 'sorry for his loss', but because of his resemblance to an undertaker, I've asked Uncle Z to remain outside.