No, I’m not trying to be insulting, but we have a lot of Pooh around here. Both our children love their Pooh Bears (gifts from Grandma and Papa)…probably more than they love their parents. At least some days!
Little A., in particular, totes his Pooh around with him, much the way Christopher Robin did in the book. I’m sure if we had stairs, Pooh would go Bump! Bump! Bump! down them, because that’s the only way he knows.
Despite the fact that Little A. expresses his affection for Pooh by constantly chewing on his…um, derriere, shall we say?...normally Pooh and Little A. live in perfect harmony. In fact, they even sleep in concert.
|The Face Flop|
No children OR animals were harmed in the taking of these pictures, and they abso-tively, posi-elutely were not posed.
So in the interests of general sanitation, health, and welfare—and never again hearing S. scream, “Get your wet, stinky Pooh off of me!!!”—I recently re-stuffed and repaired Pooh’s…um, derriere. Little A. came mock-sobbing into our room the next morning, saying, “I ca-an’t che-ew on Po-oh!”
Pooh apparently realized he is now safe from retribution, because I found him doing this the other night:
Sneaky little bear, all stuffed with fluff.