Honey Bear has resumed his rightful place as Head Bear in my house. He was relegated to the basket of old toys for a time, but Common Sense has prevailed and he is back in charge. He first came to me when I was confined to a crib, my fellow prisoner behind the bars of safety. Later, we listened to stories, explored the jungle in the backyard, directed the lives of the toys in the box, and napped even when we didn’t want to. He saw me through measles, mumps, chicken pox, and a number of sniffy noses, yet he miraculously never got sick himself. Honey Bear is showing some signs of wear and tear, as are we all. I remember my mother in her later years sighing and saying, “Ah, the vicissitudes of old age.” Indeed, Mom, indeed. But we’re hanging in there, watching the world go by, and trying hard to hang on to how much fun we had when we were Young and Beautiful in the wilds of our Land of Childhood.
