Now I’ve got the Pooh books out and I’m looking through them, remembering.

I remember the night at our home in San Francisco when, after reading from one of those books at Jeremy and Sarah’s bedtime, I lost track of it somehow. I asked Jeremy where it was and I thought he said he had thrown it out the window. Jeremy wasn’t more than three then.

The sill for the bedroom window was low and the window opened sideways so it was possible. I became frantic and went out onto the short roof outside the window to look for it. It wasn’t there so I thought maybe he tossed it farther and it went down into the back yard. I couldn’t find it there although it was dark and I could have missed it. All I could think of was that this was the book my father had given me as a child and I’ve lost it.

Then we found it. I don’t remember where it was. Behind a chair or something. Boy was I relieved.

Here’s a little bit from the last story in Winnie-the-Pooh:

‘When you wake up in the morning, Pooh,’ said Piglet at last, ‘what’s the first thing you say to yourself?’

‘What’s for breakfast?’ said Pooh. ‘What do you say, Piglet?’

‘I say, I wonder what’s going to happen exciting today?’ said Piglet.

Pooh nodded thoughtfully.

‘It’s the same thing,’ he said.