Delightful

I recently read Winnie the Pooh--yes, for the first time. I did not read it as a child, and in fact was not overly fond of any of the Pooh franchise then. Well, unless you count the Disney audiobook Winnie the Pooh and Tigger Too.

Yet, as much as the animations and spin-offs have convoluted it, the original stories are adorable. It's quite possible to read them as allegory, what with Owl's obsession with sounding smart and getting a reputation for being wise when really he's just as clueless as the rest of them; and poor little Piglet's amiable cowardice; Pooh and his Very Small Brain and thinly veiled habits of mooching off of anyone who will or won't let him; Kanga, the over-protective mother; Roo, the rambunctious child; Rabbit, the stick in the mud; and finally, the famous Eeyore, who is a determined pessimist.

And then, there is Christopher Robin, bless him, who loves his Bear so very much, in spite of a full knowledge of all of his shortcomings. He reminds me of my oldest nephew, who loves to sleep with a stuffed Anaconda, who can read books with his mom by the hour, and whose worst possible punishment is having his Lightning McQueen and/or Doc put on top of the refrigerator for time out. Little children are delightful, aren't they?