Pooh in the Willows

Over dinner we were discussing Winnie the Pooh and which animal we most resembled. The Owl, being the most authoritative and sagacious went to our son. 

Credit Alexas Fotos

My wife thought she might be Kanga with a touch of Eyore—which sounds like a disease. Our daughter, we agreed had a lot of Tigger in her, though she was not present to argue the case. 

I was present, a voice that would not be silenced! Perhaps, I began tentatively, I could be Owl too.

Shot down in flames.

“No, you’re Pooh, a greedy bear of little brain,” they said. I ate my roast potatoes in silence and brooded.  “Badger, then,” I said. Gruff, authoritative, a wise old cove. 

“Wrong book. That’s Wind in the Willows.”

“Yes, but now we have crossovers.” I desperately tried to remember what was going on in the Marvel Universe, heroes from different comics interacting in bizarre conflicts but sexy costumes. Would Badger look good in a leotard and cape? Who would play Mr Toad? Would they see me as him too?

“A Winnie the Pooh. . . and a Wind in the Willows crossover?”

There was silence for a moment, as though they were giving it serious thought.

What would it be called? 

“Wind in the Pooh.”

“Pooh in the Willows.”

“Winnie the Wind.”

I admitted defeat and accepted my new designation as Winnie the Pooh.