poohspot

Eeyore: Stuck again.

Christopher Robin: Don't worry Pooh. We'll get you out.

Christopher Robin: Pooh Bear, there's only one thing we can do, wait for you to get thin again.

Pooh: Oh bother. How long will that take?

‘Oh, bother! I think I shall come down.’

The wind had dropped, and the snow, tired of rushing in circles trying to catch itself up, now fluttered gently down until it found a place on which to rest, and sometimes the place was Pooh’s nose and sometimes it wasn’t, and in a little while Piglet was wearing  a white muffler round his neck and feeling more snowy behind the ears than he had ever felt before.

Christopher Robin: Pooh, there's something I have to tell you.

Pooh: Is it something nice?

Christopher Robin: Not exactly.

Pooh: Then it can wait.

Christopher Robin: It can... for how long?

Christopher Robin: Pooh, promise me you won’t forget about me, ever. Not even when I’m a hundred.

Pooh: How old shall I be then?

Christopher Robin: Ninety-nine.