Sometime in early 2013, I entered into a state of pop culture suspended animation, an under-publicized side-effect of the phenomenon known as new parenthood. Sleep deprivation and midnight diaper changes grab the headlines, but in the end those are mechanical things. You too can learn to make a pot of coffee in the murky pre-dawn with one hand, while finding a dry pair of pajamas with the other, all without ever opening your eyes. It’s basic biology; we were born to it.

But this gradual, insidious, ever-growing disconnect between new parent and The Entire Rest of the World? This is a profoundly more impactful thing. Because by the time your child learns how to sleep through the night, by the time you manage even to contemplate a night out with your partner, I can pretty much guarantee you will have no idea what the hell is going on outside your own four walls.

A simple example: before the new Star Wars forced my hand, the last movie I had seen in an actual theater was the Hunger Games.

The first one. In 2012.

New parenthood: fall asleep one night watching Skyfall; wake up three years later listening to Caspar Babypants.

Fortunately, there is Amazon Video. And thanks to the double helping of Mockingjay I gulped down over the last couple of weeks, there is one pop culture franchise I am now caught up on, for I too know all there is to know about the goings on in the wonderful land of Panem.

There’s just one problem. It’s not like I don’t still read books, listen to music, even watch the occasional video. They’re just a little different, now. Pitched for a slightly younger audience.

An audience for whom the law of diminishing returns Does. Not. Apply.

Now look: I’m no different than the rest of you. I’ve seen the original Princess Bride a lot of times. I like me some Monty Python; can quote Ghostbusters, chapter and verse.

But that is as nothing compared to the depth of my newfound familiarity with the canon of work that is Winnie the Pooh.

And not to put too fine a point on it, but that shit gets in your head.

Imagine the following scene. It is a Friday night; the child sleeps; my partner and I enjoy a rare moment of relative calm. Mockingjay Part I plays on the iMac, what passes for the “big screen” in our home. An open Newcastle rests on the desk front of me, condensation trickling down its side, gradually soaking the work papers scattered on my desk. All is peaceful in the house, as peaceful as can be while Katniss does battle with zombie mutts in a subterranean lair deep beneath The Capitol.

And running through my mind?

“Winnie the Pooh… Winnie the Pooh… chubby little cubby all stuffed with fluff…”

And then it hit me.

This actually kind of works.

Well, good news. Thanks to my shockingly substandard iMovie and GarageBand skills, as well as an abundance of video clips on YouTube to which I possess nothing even resembling the copyrights, it’s going to hit you as well.

I apologize for nothing. The quality of what follows isn’t the greatest, and if any of you want to put serious time and effort into it, by all means forward me the link when you’re done; I would love to watch the MockingJay part Pooh, or whatever you come up with. Hell, I’ll just put it on infinite loop, and slumber away the next three years in my pop culture freezer quite contentedly, here… in the hundred acre… woods…

In the meantime, my friends, I give you:

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The Pooh Games

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