Every week, even though our books aren’t due back yet, we go to the library.
Every week he checks to see if story time is happening. He picks out a few books, sometimes a movie, and then he runs around screaming while I attempt to pick out books for Ryan and I and whisper-shout “Shhh-shh-shh, quiet library voice! Remember? No running please! Come here! Come back here! No, don’t do… arrrrrgh!”
Then I check out our books while he spins the globe over and over again. He cries for a second when it’s time to leave, then puts on his brave face and shouts “BYE LIBRARY! I SCHEE YOU SCHOOOON!” before smacking the handicap button he very quickly learned would open the door.
He asks to see one of his books on the drive home and he bounces on his tippy toes waiting not-so-patiently for me to give him the rest once I get him home.
He likes a lot of things I don’t like. And I like a lot of things he doesn’t like. But this is something we share, and that’s pretty magical.