Bedtime Stories

It's a lovely cool summer night that came too quickly after a busy day doing too much nothing. It's still light outside Ethan is reading in bed, The Red Pyramid, Emma is reading Pocahontas and Jacob has just finished reading me Mercy Watson and Something Wonky This Way Comes. An excellent toasty ending with a great deal of butter. He decides to retreat to his room for some quality time with the Berenstain Bears. (Mom, is it okay if I just read these two and only look at this one?) Lily decides it's her turn to read to Mom. I kick it and await the tale.

She brings in A.A. Milne's Winnie the Pooh, wiggles into the mass of squashy pillows, opens the book across her lap, clears her throat impressively and begins,

Dis is Pooh. Pooh is honey bear. (mom, does dis say 'bear'?) Dats a balloon. He's all muddy, but dats o'tay. Pooh is stuck in the hole. He ate honey. He got a BID belly, like mine. Den dere's Pidelet. Pidelet is pink. (Emma needs to color dis. Pidelet is not BLAT, Pidelet is PINK.) It's Eee-ore's bir-day. He is sad. (mom, is he sad?) Das a balloon, in pieces. Das why he is sad. Dere is footprints. Pooh had a bad dream about an elephant. (where am I, mom? here? no. I'm all done with Pooh now.)

Sleep tight.