I just got back from the bookstore. Brooke has been a bit of a mess for the last 48 hours because she had been unable to find one of her favorite books. It got to the point that bedtime last night got a little hairy. This afternoon, while hanging out in the den, she started crying. I asked her why she was crying and she gave me one of her scripted answers. I dug a little deeper and she said she was sad that she could not find her book. I became determined to find it. After 20 minutes of tearing the house apart, Jess made the ingenious suggestion that I take Brooke to the bookstore and buy another copy…the $7 would be money well spent.
And so we went to the bookstore.
And we picked up a copy of her book…that is, after the nice, well meaning info desk lady helped us find it.
“You do know this is a little kids book, right?”
Yeah, believe me honey, I KNOW!!! “Yeah,” I simply sighed.
“I mean REALLY little kids.”
I suppressed my flash of anger, calmly took the book from her and went off to go pay.
Brooke could not have been happier and she began reading her book in the car and asking me questions about it:
Is it so wrong that as happy as I am that she has her book and is reading, that a part of me is bitter too that the book is this:
I know we all go at our own pace…we all do…but sometimes it’s hard to remember that.