Friday, March 16, 2012
A book I'd been waiting for magically appeared on the hold shelf (I love when that happens!) and what might be the only Magic Tree House book that Frances hasn't yet read was sitting patiently on the shelf, waiting for her. Without remarking on the novelty of the situation, the two of us squeezed onto a single cushion of the couch in the children's section (all our other books occupied the other cushion). Within our cloud of quiet, fizzing excitement, we dove into our new books. The sounds of nearby toddlers yanking picture books off the shelves and the librarian chatting with patrons at the return desk soon faded away. We read for a long, long time.
Sometimes my six and nearly three-quarters year old daughter is a mysterious child: a practiced thrower of tantrums, a triumphant queen of imaginary play, a speaker of strange languages that only she and her brother really understand. But today I looked to my right and found a quiet companion equally absorbed in her book, equally ready to ignore the rest of the day's plans. Just five more minutes, we said to each other. (Such rare, sweet, simple solidarity!) Just til the end of this page.
Here's to pages that never end. Happy weekend, everyone.