The baby gates are long gone. The booster seat is gathering dust in the basement. And I just folded my last Winnie the Pooh sheet. After nearly seven years of familiarity, I solemnly packed away the classic Pooh sheets that each of my children slept on - first high in their cribs, then in low toddler beds. The sheets they must have stared at for hours waiting for sleep to come, the ones with simple E. H. Shepard sketches of Hundred Acre Wood residents playing together happily. My son was stripped of his Pooh decor when his sister came. Now almost 4, she too has moved into a "big girl bed" that no longer warrants (or fits) her baby items. My boy's walls are covered in super heroes now, and my daughter has graduated to butterflies and flowers. With a bit of sadness I didn't expect, I gently placed our A.A. Milne friends into a cardboard box. First the sheets. Then the best friends Pooh and Piglet artwork and embroidered wall hangings came down. Next into the box w...