I’d like to start with an apology to A. A. Milne and the boy Christopher Robin.  What I’ve done with their beloved characters borders on sacrilege….which may be part of why I found it so amusing!

That, and perhaps because I also have a head stuffed with fluff today, or something a little more like a nasty infection and a little less fluffy.  However, I have been instructed to boost my immune system with lots of herbal teas, the one common ingredient of which is honey.  So I suppose this little piece was inevitable.

Flash Friday: Trapped in a Head full of fluff

“Places!” Tigger shouted.  “The book is on the move—I repeat, the book is on the move!”

“Oh, my,” Rabbit said with a happy sigh.  “I do believe this makes eleven nights in a row the boy has chosen us.  Who would have guessed we’d become such a favorite?”  He clasped his hands together, and let his delighted eyes turn up to the narrow slit of light above us, where the book would open.

“Yes, it’s wonderful, now out to the garden,” Tigger said, waving Rabbit along.  “Remember to have the wheelbarrow full of pumpkins for me to smash through.”

Piglet stood before the mirror, and practiced pinching his face into a worried frown.  “Hey, Tigger, how’s this?” he called.  He let his knees knock together, and his arms shake.  “I d-d-don’t remember my line!” he quivered.

“Wonderful,” Tigger said, nodding to Piglet.  He turned to me.  “You ready, Pooh?”

I gave a little shrug, but kept my zen position on the floor.  It was easier for Piglet, all he had to do was take the usual nerves from performing and magnify them.  I had to pretend I was stuffed with fluff, whatever that meant.

“You’ll be fine,” Tigger said, patting me on the shoulder as he walked to the backdoor.  “Just remember to be the bear.”  He took his position outside the back door, ready to bounce through the house and jounce Rabbit in his garden.

“Be the bear.  Be the bear.”  Above us, the book cracked open, and the little boy’s laughter drifted down.  I felt panicked—trapped.  Exposed on the page.  I’d been having a harder and harder time getting into character lately, with each night more of a strain.  Rabbit was always thrilled to get jounced, and Tigger was a disciplined professional, but I was falling apart.  And I was the star of the show!  How could I let them all down?

The little boy patted the book, and spoke to his Daddy.  “Will you do the sounds tonight?  So I can hear Pooh bear’s rumbly tumbly?”

I looked down at my tummy—it had shrunk again!  I was supposed to be round and full of honey, but instead I was losing weight!  I couldn’t do this—not tonight.  Maybe not ever.  But the boy was opening the book!  I raised my eyes to Tigger, Piglet, and Rabbit, looking in from the garden.  I felt panic, and expected to see concern and disappointment on their faces.  Instead there was love.  Appreciation.  Understanding.  It flooded into me—warm and fluffy, just like the stuff that was supposed to fill my head.

I took a deep breath–and I had it.  I was all bear.

As the book fell open, I turned to face the little boy and his dad, one hand wrapped around a honey jar, and the other stuffed in my mouth.  Despite the honey, my face held a smile of content that would charm our young reader as it had his father, and his father’s father.

Have you ever wondered if characters in books feel the urge to bust out of their prescribed role and run amok?  Or is that just me?  It’s probably the result of having read certain children’s books about sixteen times too many when my kids were small. 😉

Join in the Flash Friday blog hop with a snippet of your own, and leave your link here.  I’ll be hopping around during the day to see what everyone posts!

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