Yeow, read this one only after the kid's gone to sleep. It's a knee-slapping, cringe-inducing Winnie The Pooh, as reimagined by a South African columnist named Tom Eaton. Let me put it this way: Rabbit's side effects from the live animal testing and his crystal meth addiction are not the worst fates to befall Christopher Robin's little friends:
..."Kanga," he said, winking conspicuously at Rabbit and then at the medicine cabinet, "please make sure that You Know Who doesn't get into the You Know Where to steal goodies to sell for You Know What."From Pooh Corner to Shit Creek [mail & guardian - SA, via robotwisdom]
Rabbit gave a shuddering sigh, and tried to shoo away a fly that had settled on his dry eyeball. "Has it come to this?" he croaked. "Am I being patronised by the most famously limited intellect in all -English children's literature?" He drew himself up as high as his rotted tendons allowed, and with an almost audible scratching of membrane on scab, fixed his gaze on where he hoped Pooh stood in doorway. "Edward Bear," he said. "Please do not assume that my descent into prostitution and petty theft has corresponded with a -waning of my mental powers." But the Bear of Very Little Brain was gone, having remembered the existence of flapjacks in Piglet's cake tin.
The original A.A. Milne books may be a little advanced for a baby [they're for readers ages 9-12], but there's a My First Winnie The Pooh boardbook, which has a bunch of rhymes and excerpts of Milne's poems. Plus the original Earnest Shepard illustrations.