Honey for breakfast?
Pooh looked at Piglet carefully. Then he smiled. Then Piglet smiled (although you could hardly tell) and then Pooh laughed, a sort of dawning laugh. First it was like a careful deep red laugh with some mist around the edges. Then it became a purplish/orange sort of laugh; and then finally a full, bright “good morning” sort of laugh. Piglet’s laugh followed like a fresh morning breeze.
“We did, didn’t we?” asked Pooh of Piglet, and of anyone else who might be listening, like Pooh bear.
“Yes,” nodded Piglet.
“And we said we wouldn’t, didn’t we?” Piglet squeaked his agreement.
“It was very very nice,” said Piglet, and smiled a smile that almost bubbled into another laugh.
“Maybe honey pots are like that,” said Pooh in his deep, thoughtful way.
“Like what?” asked Piglet.
“Maybe they invite you to come for just a little taste. Then, while you’re tasting, ever so carefully, they invite you some more and when you aren’t looking they sneak up on you and invite you right in… Perhaps they invite so strongly that we get right to the bottom without really noticing.”
Piglet nodded. He wasn’t sure that Pooh was right but it sounded right.
Then Piglet thought very deeply and said, “But why do we feel the way we do when it’s all gone… sort of sad and happy and very sticky?”
“I don’t know,” said Pooh. “It’s not as if there weren’t enough honey pots because there are… lots and lots.” He thought a bit more while he licked a bit of errant honey off the back of his paw, where it had been carefully escaping attention. “Maybe, just maybe, we could decide not to enjoy the honey when it calls to us so strongly.”
“Yes, maybe,” said Piglet.
They looked at each other, and Pooh said… he almost said something, but then he smiled instead because of the wonderful feeling in his belly; an inward, joyful, sticky honey smile and they were both laughing again and the sun woke all the birds and flowers and the world was a happy place.
“What are we going to have for breakfast?” asked Piglet.
“How about some honey,” said Pooh.