W is for...

Winnie the Pooh.

I was a moderate fan of Winnie the Pooh when I was a child, but you have to remember that I am positively ancient, so back in those days, the Disney version didn't exist, and my knowledge of the Bear of Little Brain was "limited" to the original books.

I say "limited" because that original, A.A. Milne version is a damn fine version, and the stories and poems he wrote for his son (the famous Christopher Robin) are wonderful.

The Disney version is immensely popular, and I have nothing against it. The characters retain their charm, the stories, though sometimes a little too moralising, are generally cute and fun, and the drawings, though more cuddly than the originals, are still pretty adorable.

My fan-dom lasted long into adulthood - the one time I flew long haul (from Paris to New York) I had the choice of watching a disaster film (this one) or an animated (kids') film, The Tigger Movie. Well, I was travelling alone and didn't care what my fellow passengers thought of me, so I chose the latter. And thoroughly enjoyed it. I should perhaps mention that I was 31 at the time...

Anyway. It turned out that my elder daughter, C, fell in love with a plush Winnie the Pooh when she was very small. That one unfortunately got lost a couple of years later, so a replacement was procured (thank you, Disney Store online!) and she's had him ever since. He may be a Bear of Little Brain, but he is also a Bear who is Very Much Loved.

C turned 10 back in December, and in many ways she's very clearly on her way to being a teenager (heaven help me). She listens to music on YouTube, she can apply make-up better than I can, she can seem amazingly sophisticated at times.

And yet.

At heart, she's still very much a little girl, endlessly loyal to her Winnie, holding him on her lap pretty much constantly when she's at home, hanging him over the back of her chair by his T-shirt when we eat, kissing him goodbye every time she leaves the house.

I'm pretty sure many of the kids in her class would laugh at her for being a baby if they knew how very much she adores her Winnie, and I'm equally sure she doesn't ever talk about him when she's with her friends.

And whilst I've never been one to mope around at the thought of my girls getting older (I've said it before, I'm soooo not a baby or toddler person!), I do kind of hope she'll keep this love of her Winnie for many years to come.

This is the one she has. Only hers is much grubbier. And much loved.