The Boy and I just finished our latest read-aloud books: Winnie-the-Pooh and The House at Pooh Corner. We watched the old Pooh cartoons, too. He loved all of it. So much that this is what bedtime looks like:
For the past few nights--every night--he's had his Winnie the Pooh baby quilt, his uncle's old Pooh, and a not-quite-authentic Owl, Rabbit, Piglet, and Tigger. I asked him whether that makes him Christopher Robin, but he thought that was silly.
And yes, I've now heard every Pooh (i.e., poo) joke that a six-year-old boy can dream up. Several times. For weeks.