Brooklyn is my little bookworm. Of course which of my kids isn’t? None, none of my kids aren’t bookworms. As in, they all are. What? That was stupidly written.
We checked out like 45 books from the library. I’ve read so much this week my voice is scratchy. Reading and singing all the live long day.
I forgot to take a picture of Brooklyn’s books. They crack me up. Long chapter books about mysteries and science and stuff. Books you’d probably see a 10 year old boy reading. Oh but also, Goosebumps. My girl’s got a thing for Goosebumps and that makes me smile because guess who else had a thing for Goosebumps at her age? Me.
Our carseats are regularly borrowed and used by whatever kid feels like whatever carseat that particular day. Half the carseats are in Allan’s car half the time. Since I’m constantly moving carseats back and forth to use his car when it’s his coworker, Tim’s, turn to drive the carpool, I sometimes just leave one or two in there to save myself the headache and backache of switching them back.
That, too, was stupidly written. I apologize. Must be the caffeine.
We had ourselves a dance party in the car in the parking lot of the library. There was a particularly good song on that insisted we boogy out before venturing in to look for books. There are video clips documenting this booty shaking, head banging session currently on my hard drive. I’d share them but, my computer doesn’t agree that it should have to edit video clips, so it simply decided not to anymore, forevermore.
Is it an odd day when a mother wishes there weren’t so many fun toys and computers and games at the library so that her children would just simply pick out books and read books while there? Isn’t that what a library is? Am I confused or misinformed on the definition of library? Can I please just get together with a library that contains books and only books? I will marry such a thing, if such a thing exists, until death do I part, amen.