Little bear had a thing about pandas when he was little, and he still loves his IKEA pandy, even though it has been superseded by Ratatouille. So both darling father and darling uncle provided him with large pandas. Darling father provided the smaller, more manageable one. It is a mere two and a half feet tall, and an absolute nuisance to lug around, store and generally manage. Darling uncle provided a four foot tall, overweight, cheap furred monster that when we brought it back needed its own seat in the car. It was exactly the same length as little bear's cot. I feel seriously outclassed when I try and manhandle it to get it anywhere.
They have both been left in the junk room, but that situation can't continue as I want to move into there. I was trying to convince little bear that they took too much room and moved them into his large bedroom. This was an error. Little bear loves his pandas, he loves them, he adores them, he needs them in his room and to be specific he needs them in his bed.
I am up in the middle of the night due to an upset stomach and going past little bear's room I crept in and tucked him in as he is never properly under the covers. And there he is, in all his glory, sharing his single bed with an enormous panda and an even bigger one that is still taller than him. There is more panda in the bed than little bear.
It could be worse. Little bear is still sleeping on the very edge of the bed. He does even if it is empty. I regularly creep in, empty the bed of books, shift over stuffed toys and try and coax a sleeping little bear nearer the centre of the bed. It doesn't matter. Little bear always sleeps as if the bed is full. And at the moment, it certainly is.
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