Yesterday, Miles and I somehow got to talking about a Winnie the Pooh stuffed animal I had as a child. He had a weird case of the giggles, because what I thought was a rather sentimental and nostalgic memory had him roaring as I explained how Santa brought me a giant Pooh for Christmas, and how I wouldn't let anyone else play with my Pooh, and that Matt got one too so sometimes I would accidentally play with his Pooh instead. I told him how sad I would get when I had to eat dinner without my stuffed friend because my mom wouldn't let me put Pooh on the table. And then I recounted how, after finally growing up, I tried to give my Pooh away, but nobody wanted it.
Tonight, at dinner, Miles asked me to tell him some more about my Pooh, but Laura shut us down pretty quickly. "Your mother used to like Pooh, too" I whispered. "Back when she still had a sense of humor."
1 comment:
ROFL. Only you...and perhaps Miles.
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