Anti Pooh

I have taken extreme measures to keep Winnie the Pooh out of my house. Not because I don't like him or because I find him and his colourful buddies offensive... Really it's because Pooh was around when I was a kid. Before marketing and branding and before Winnie the Pooh adorned every. single. infant thing imaginable. There's Pooh stuffed animals, Pooh clothing, movies, books, dishes, bottles. Even diapers have Mr. Pooh emblazoned on them. Oh the irony...

Winnie the Pooh was a special little cartoon for me when I was a kid that wasn't yet ruined by Disney. Ariel and Belle came out in the prime of Disney marketing. I expected Ariel and Belle houseware. They were doomed from day 1. But Pooh? Come on. Just leave him alone in the unmarketed 1970s where he belongs.

So, I invested a lot of time sifting through Pooh newborn clothes, pitching Pooh handmedowns and giving away all Pooh related presents* And I was proud to say that I didn't own a single Pooh embellished item.

So a few months ago, my parents, brother and fam head up to Gran's for Thanksgiving and we stop at Costco in Kamloops. My mom has Lily in her arms and takes her into the toy section (her first mistake). They're gone for a long time and when we finally reconnect, Lily has a massive smile on her face and is holding onto a GIANT stuffed Pooh Bear. My WORST nightmare realized.

According to my mom, there was some major shrieking involved when she saw the abomination. And yes. The bear was coming home with us.

On one condition... The bear was to stay at Granma and Granpas.

So this dumb overstuffed beanbag is now one of Lily's favourite stuffed animals. She spends oodles of time dragging its sorry yellow ass around my parent's living room and burying her face into its permanent black grin. Oy vey.

Fast forward to December. I'm out at some heritage meeting, and Jay is doing some shopping at Canadian Tire. I get home after she's in bed and head into the kitchen to get a popsicle**. And crumpled up on the floor is another GIANT stuffed Pooh bear!!!

This time it's Tigger.

And this time it's ours...

Jason rolled his eyes when I brought it out to him in the living room. Apparently he was shopping for tools or some other Canadian Tire-esque item when suddenly, Lily started to scream. He thought maybe she hit her head on something, maybe caught her hand in a display... No. She was screaming for a whole bin of GIANT Pooh stuffed animals. She wouldn't stop until he picked one out of the bin and gave it to her. And then he bought it - fully aware of the No-Pooh rule in our house...

Everytime I see it, it's like giant orange wart in our house.

I sense some bad patterns emerging from the above events:

a. Lily seems to intuitively know and seek out everything that I don't like and try to avoid. She's going to want a pet slug - I just know it.

b. Lily knows that her paps and grandparents will get her what she wants if shrieking is involved. That shit don't work with me. Unless it's something I want as well. Which is why she's never shrieked for Pooh around me. And why she has a lot of shoes...

c. Stores that place massive bins of overstuffed animals are mean and should be boycotted.

Thank god the Giant Tigger was only $9.97....

Lily with a GIANT turnip. Much more fun than a GIANT Pooh, right?

L

*except Pooh storybooks - those are gold

**I have a popsicle every single night. And I wonder why my pants don't fit.