When Spencer was born, I read to him every night of his life until he was probably 8 or 9 years old. We had breakfast every single morning of life (still) and I read to him every night. I always felt like we had nice bookends to his days. I found some great books to read to him when he was little too. Books that were not torture for me to read (over and over and over and over and . . .) and that he loved.
Then, when he got older and I cleaned out his closet, I went through all of his childhood books and kept a small sampling of the ones we liked the most. There were a lot of “Lil Critters” and “Critters of the Night” books by Mercer Mayer. These were books with friendly, nonthreatening, little monster characters and had titles like “No Howling in the House” and “No Flying in the Hall” and “Pirate Soup”. There was also a great lift and look book (a book with little “windows” you could open to expose the answers to questions or similar) called “Old Howl Hall”.
When we moved out of our old house and into our new house, we really cleaned out the old house. I mean, we emptied everything into a dumpster and had it hauled away. I battled sentimental urges to keep things which I knew I didn’t really need anymore. I threw a lot away.
For the past couple of weeks (prompted by the upcoming rite of passage of my son going away to college perhaps?), I have been thinking about those books. I went down into the cellar and looked through the remaining boxes (which, no, I have still not unpacked!) and did not find the box of books to which I refer. They must be in the attic. It makes sense that they would be in the attic because I don’t need them regularly. I just didn’t want them to be gone completely.
Three days ago, I climbed into the attic to look for them. They were not there. I cried. Oh yes, I cried mightily. I cursed myself as only I can curse myself. Those of you who know me well, know that I am a champion, grade-A “curser”, so you can only imagine. I’ll spare you the specifics.
Marty suggested that I get online and see if I can find any of the books. Amazon never let’s you down, after all. And guess what? I found four of Spencer’s favorite books and/or books that meant the most to me! I found a used copy of “Purple Pickle Juice” and a used copy of “Old Howl Hall” and a brand new “Thirteen Monsters Who Should be Avoided” and a new “Hooway for Wodney Wat” (Spencer couldn’t pronounce his Rs until I taught him how. I was worried that, living in Massachusetts, no one would even notice that he couldn’t since most of the adults pronounce them wrong here!).
No library should be without well-worn, much-read books that you read every night of your child’s young life. I don’t have them all, but I managed to right my wrong and find a sampling that will remind me of those great books! Thank you Amazon.
Evolution Happens . . . 