Today is the last day of my wife's thirty-sixth year. I was working with a local plastering outfit and so she decided to go somewhere cool with the kids and make the most of the day. She elected to take all the kids she could fit in the car to Ashdown forest, the place where Christopher Robin played; the home of Winnie The Pooh. I was at work, Sauruas (16) was left at home to 'be' and off they set.
I returned home shortly before they did and when they staggered through the door they were all very happy, they'd had a wonderful time! Awesome! Everyone was chatting away, telling me about Pooh and the 'Pooh sticks' bridge and Eyore's house and all the great stuff they'd seen when Dot (3) leaned in and started whispering in my ear.
DOT: *Whispers* Pooh's dead.
DOT: *Whispers* Dead. Very dead. Dead Pooh.
ME: Are you sure Pooh's dead?
@Mamacrow: A.A.Milne is dead. Yes he is. Pooh? I don't think Pooh's dead.
DOT:*Whispers* Pooh's dead.
ME: Oh dear.
DOT: *Whispers* Owl's dead too... And Rabbit.
DOT: *Whispers* Piglet too. Pig
let's dead. And Kanga and Roo.
ME: I don't think they're dead if we remember them and still read their stories sweetie.
Dot stares at me for a short while and then leans in again.
DOT: *Whispers* Tiggers dead. All dead now.
Dot wanders off to watch t.v, I'm left traumatised on the stairs.
TIGGER'S NOT DEAD!