Took the boys to the library today. This is beginning to be a bad thing for me. It’s sad, because I remember my childhood trips to the library with such fondness. It was a wonderland. All those books. But of course, when I was a kid I didn’t have to unearth the due library books, find everyone’s summer reading program envelopes, argue about how many squares should be colored in, find library cards, but shoes on the baby, make everyone go to the bathroom, put shoes back on the baby, get everyone in the car, drive to the library, discover that one summer reading program envelope has been left home, drive home to get it (swearing under breath), drive back to the library, put shoes back on the baby, and get everyone across the parking lot alive. So it would have been more fun back then.
We finally got to the library, and I have to whine just a bit here. Why do libraries have to have all those videos and computer games and stuff? I hate starting every library trip with a discussion that ends with me snarling, “I SAID you can get ONE video. THAT’S IT.” Sort of takes away from my love-of-reading fantasies for my children when they race in the doors and right over to the videos.
Eventually, however, I was able to lure them away from the videos and into the actual stacks. There was a puppet theater for the kids to play with and they put on a show for me that went like this:
Shark (played by Tre): Hmm, hmm. Nice day here. I guess I’ll just sit down here.
Whale (played by Max): What?
(Furious whispering, during which Tre threatens to take away Max’s role and play the whale himself if he doesn’t pay attention and come attack when he’s supposed to)
Whale: I’m going to eat that shark!
(Dramatic fight scene, culminating in whale puppet being stolen by the baby brother of the two actors, who chase him off stage, yelling threats that earn stern looks from the circulation desk)
From there we moved into the actual picking out of books. Tre picked out a stack of Arthur books. 16 Arthur books, all of which he’s already read. I, being the one who pays the overdue fines in our house, told him he could choose two. There was great sorrow over this. Huge brown eyes, disbelieving my cruelty. I was firm. “TWO BOOKS,” I told him, “we can come back next week.” Now, I know that sounds harsh, especially from someone with love-of-reading fantasies, but understand he doesn’t actually read the Arthur books. He has a stack of books at home that he’s actually reading. He’ll bring home a great armload of books like this and have no interest the books themselves. As near as I can tell, it’s a hunting exploit. He’s happy to have bagged every Marc Brown book. Very manly.
Max, on the other hand, was into the books. He studied the shelves, then pulled down a volume and sat on the floor, lost in its pages. He was totally absorbed until I came up to him and gently asked, “Is that one you want to take home?” Then he looked up at me, blinked, and discarded his book in the re-shelving bin. “Nah. I don’t want this one.” And he was off to commune with another book that he ultimately wouldn’t choose. Over and over again. He finally did pick one, and I picked one other for him.
This whole time Raphael is enjoying the library as only Raphi can. He raced around, pulled books off shelves, and drew a lovely mural on the coloring table. Not on some paper at the table, you understand, but ON the table.
Finally we were ready to check out. Tre wanted to use his own card, and we discovered it had $4.60 in fines. Sigh. Ok, I paid it. The librarian was somewhat grim about that. Max wanted to use his own card, but had somehow managed to lose it between the time I handed it to him while we were parked in our garage and when we arrived at the library. So the rest of the books went on my card. Which had (are you ready) $18.40 worth of fines. Now, I KNOW this is an error. I just paid a bazillion dollars in fines. But the librarian, who clearly felt my literacy should be revoked for such grievous crimes against the library’s trust, was not in the mood to discuss it and was not going to let me borrow my stack of books until I paid the fine. So I did, but I DIDN’T say thank you when she gave me my receipt. Hah.
The boys got their reader reward coins to put in their envelopes, and finally, FINALLY we were ready to leave.
As we made our way across the parking lot, me with a stack of books on one hip and a screeching, wriggling Raphael on the other, it occurred to me what was the problem with these trips to the library for the boys.
It’s the boys. I gotta leave them home next time.