B is for Babar

If there was a Velvetine rabbit in our house when I was growing up, it was Babar, king of the elephants. Well.... Matthew and Jenny and Polly and Dalenna Thea would probably beg to disagree that he was alone in being well loved, but as there haven't been books and movies written about them yet, I will leave them aside for the time being.

Babar arrived in a suitcase, with an aunt, visiting from far away England.  With his bright green suit and his shiny crown and at least one book detailing his past adventures in the country of the elephants, he quickly enthralled us with his stories. From there he went everywhere.  (But especially wherever my sister went.)

For tea parties under the apple tree.

Or dress up parties.

Or on searches for Ping on the Yangtze River.

Or to an upstairs window to watch hay baling.

Or tucked up tight under the arm of my sister (Tinbugs) when she went to surgery for tubes in her ears.

He was quite taken by the hospital and thought seriously about spending an extra few days there. Tinbugs was not convinced. Neither was Mom.

Now, in  his "latter years"  (shh. he's still young at heart and doesn't like to be reminded), he spends his days in relative ease, avoiding the limelight. Sometimes he chats with one of his authors or illustrators, but mostly he ignores their calls.  Occasionally he goes for a "run" in the early spring air or out for a stroll to check up on how the new batch of lambs is coming along. Back in younger days he used to play king of the mountain with the lambs, waving his trunk and trumpeting with glee when they wiggled their tails.  Now he mostly offers commentary from the sidelines. 

He was so excited about being featured here, that he talked Tinbugs into taking some portrait shots so he could proudly show off his best side.

 



"Check out my feet. Maybe I could run a 5K if I had surgery!"