He's a strange lad ...

K has just turned eight. A very bright eight. A reading-age-of-eleven-and-a-half type of eight.

So can you imagine my surprise when, offered the choice of Harry Potter, Captain Underpants, or a book on rocks (the rugrat likes rocks, can't go anywhere without bringing home half a ton of them) as something he might like for Christmas, he stated ...

"No thanks. Can I have a real Winnie the Pooh book ?"

Real, as in before Disney and the stupid red Tshirt. Back when Pooh still ate elevenses (which K is very taken with, mainly because it's another opportunity for eating !) and Rabbit came out with comments like ...

"You have to admire a person who can spell Tuesday, even if he can't spell it right"