franceslievens | Bear's Cookies

Bear is my class mascotte. The kids love his soft fur and tiny t-shirt. They think it funny when he reprimands them in his tiny booming voice* because they start cuddling him... again. Then he mumbles things like: "Put me down! You don't go cuddling Silent Kid for no apparant reason! I don't like this!" If he could he'd drool on their t-shirts. But he can't, like he neither can eat the snacks the other kids offer him. It does provide some interesting conversations, though:

Here Bear, this cookie's for you. See, these are bear-shaped cookies!

Do you think Bear likes to eat cookies shaped as bears?

Of course he does! Do you want something to drink, Bear?

Yes, please!

Here you go, Bear.

*slllurrrrp* Hmm, that was nice.

Now eat your cookie... Hey, why doesn't he open his mouth? Do you think Bear doesn't like this cookie?

Errr, he's still a stuffed animal, love.

Every time I am quite struck by how fantasy and reality intermingle in the mind of six- and seven-year-olds. They seem to understand very grown-up things like difficult feelings and their consequences, and then – just like that – they've traded that world for their imagination, where bears can talk and it isn't the Miss who eats the cookies that stay behind on Bear's desk.

*Bear is only six, but has the distinguished hum of a bear when he talks. I discovered his voice today, something in between Santa Claus and one of his elves.