This morning Son and I were going to go to the gym for open gym time, but it was canceled so we went to the library instead.
This isn’t our regular library, but we’ve visited before.
Every visit to this larger library must include at least two visits to the bathroom and two elevator rides. There’s a cafe, and the children’s area is about ten times the size of our regular branch.
They also have a perpetual sale of donated and replaced books. Children’s books are twenty-five cents (!!!), so I picked up a few. One in particular was a no-brainer. I’d read the book right after it came out and just knew that I’d buy it when I had kids. I’d just not gotten around to it yet.
Every day before nap Son & I read a few books together. We’d been to the bookstore last night and he’s been inseparable from his new train book ever since. I grabbed one of the new-to-us library books, too, and we sat down to read. After reading the train book (for the seventeenth time today) I gently declined his request to read it again and told him I thought he’d really love the new book.
I opened the book and after the first sentence he started laughing.
I don’t mean giggling, or a cute, short chuckle. I mean laughing. Deep, belly-clutching, roll-on-the-bed, grab my arm and hug me, lose-his-breath, can’t-stop type laughing.
I was laughing, too.
I’d finally introduced him to one of the finest books ever written: Everyone Poops.
I’m glad to see that like me, he appreciates good prose.
I’m so proud.