My oldest son had a field trip this week to the Public Library. As a huge proponent of reading, you would think this is a place that I frequently take my children. Uh…no! In fact they have never visited a library beyond the perimeters of school. Of course, with a house overflowing with books and a Kindle practically glued to my fingertips, it seemed strange to my six year old. When he asked why, I told him the truth.
See, I’m not a huge fan of borrowing books that countless others have read before me. YUCK! I eat when I read. Usually cookies or candy. I don’t even want to imagine what has touched the pages of borrowed books. Insert your imagination here and you might share my sentiments. Hence, we prowl bookstores. When it’s time to purchase I always grab the book in the back of the rack…hoping that it hasn’t been touched a gazillion times. Now this attitude might not be normal. I’m not sure. But I am sure it’s going to be real hard for me to start checking out library books on a regular basis. (NOT FOR ME…But the boys are already itching to go back and I can’t in good conscience say no). ICKY!
My second transgression of the week was rather amusing (at least to me). A piece of mail arrived on Tuesday from the Wall Street Journal addressed to my five year old. He opened it, pulled out a pen and began writing different messages all over the solicitation. When he was satisfied, he grabbed the return envelope; stuffed his response inside and sealed it tight with blue painter’s tape. My six year old pulled me aside and gently asked what I was going to do with it. As soon as I said I was going to pop it in the mail, his eyes bulged out of their sockets. Clearly he was uncomfortable with the notion of the WSJ receiving a written response from his five year old brother. I figure if they sent it to him they should be happy with whatever he has to say!!!! And, yes I am mailing it back to them.
Perhaps my biggest booboo happened yesterday. Walking through the parking lot of school a little friend of the family (that carpools with us occassionally) spotted a big old worm. As I deftly stepped around it she reached down and grabbed hold of its wiggly body. I think I gasped. It was gross. Really, really gross. When we reached the car I asked her to hold on before hopping in….giving me time to grab germ buster. Yes, I made her clean her hands before buckling up. Her reaction? Gee whiz it’s only a worm. She was right. But so was I. At least I think so.
Today I’m thinking about slapping a few strips of tape across my mouth. Without a dobut the family would appreciate a little break from the reality that is their mother.