Note to Disney: If your goal in making this movie was to create a generation of Eeyores, you succeeded. Congratulations.

But back to the issue at hand, which you will remember concerns Christopher Robin. How much can one boy realize he's about to leave his childhood behind without actually going and doing it?

It's eerie to keep returning to this kid when he's on the cusp of emotional maturity, to watch the animals become distraught over his time away from them again and again. It's not like Christopher's made a steadfast resolve to never grow up, like Peter Pan, or is by nature an ageless being like Pooh himself. Christopher Robin is aware of his childhood's imminent end. To have to keep reliving his limbo state over nearly a century must be some sort of personal hell for him, like the ending of Being John Malkovich. At least Pixar had the mercy to let Andy, the little boy at the heart of the Toy Story films, age gracefully.

So Disney, heed my conflicted compliment sandwich: Thank you for bringing Pooh, Piglet, Owl and — yes — even Tigger back to theaters. Thank you for teaching kids everywhere that it's OK to embrace simple pacing and pleasant woodland critters over eardrum-rattling explosions and hideous giant robots.

But for the love of all that is good and Hunny, please let Christopher Robin grow up. Have him hand down Pooh and the gang to his long-lost cousin Christina Robin, or have him fight the encroaching outside world, Calvin And Hobbes-style. He's been six forever. He's Robin Everlasting.

The Hundred Acre Wood will still be there whenever Christopher decides to visit — it'll just look a little smaller. But Pooh will survive. And (see, here's the other slice of compliment-bread), just like he promised all those years ago, he won't forget. How could he? Christopher Robin's the best friend a bear could ever have.