A Shallow Grave in the Hundred Acre Wood

Secundus and I tagged along with some of his friends to see a play. We say the Abridged Works of William Shakespeare. It was quite humorous and somewhat bawdy. Tit and penis jokes abounded. Methinks such jests are much in accord with the Bard’s original style. Secundus worked his way into the production. At one point he was doing the Macarena at center stage before one of Hamlet’s big soliloquies. Don’t ask. My eyes were filled with tears from laughing so much.

The play, while fun, is not the key thing in this post. The other two parents we joined at the production complimented me on how nice Secundus was. “He always shares,” they said. “He always plays nice,” they said, “ when he plays with younger children.’ “Look how the three boys are just having fun.” Foreshadowing.

In the van on the ride back the three boys that had attended the play were goofing around with the little kids’ books in the back seat. Together they had managed to wiggle into the third row in the back. One book was an apparent Disney Winnie the Pooh knockoff with another child other than Christopher Robin cavorting with Pooh in the illustrations. Secundus took real exception to this. Works like sacrilege and blasphemy floated up toward the front seat. At a point when the parents had stopped talking for half a second we heard this. “Hey on TV these days this imposter would be end up in a shallow grave at the far end of the 100 acre woods. Pooh, Tigger and Eyore would then set out on a trouble laden mission to find the real Christopher Robin.”

Secundus is 12. Dispatching a faux Christopher Robin to a shallow grave while in line with a Showtime storyline seems a tad bit harsh. We will have to talk.