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The Grinch that stole the library

December 24, 2008

I am not proud of myself.

Tonight, T decided to repeatedly stand on his books. He does this because he knows that he is not supposed to and because it drives me Up. The. Wall. I can hear the books whimper as the spines crack and bindings groan.

After putting him in his 3rd “time in” for standing on the book with the largest, most crackable spine of all, he gave me a hug, jumped off my lap, and ran straight to said book and defiantly stomped on top of it. I’m pretty sure he smiled.

At my wit’s end, I asked if I needed to take away all of his books since he couldn’t treat them nicely. “Yes”, he nodded seriously. Stupid Mama. I cannot threaten things I have no intention of doing. I gathered up the books. It took years. Books are like water in our house. Like air. He has more books than socks, diapers, toys, and bananas combined. (And he has a LOT of bananas.)

Armful after armful of books were piled into mountainous towers in a closed-off room. T screamed like his limbs were being torn from his body. Like his heart was being removed from his chest. T loves his books more than toys, more than snow, even more than bananas. And I love that he loves books. But I want him to learn to respect his things. I know he’s little. I know I’m asking too much. But tonight he was being so willful about it, I lost my head.

I am so very mean that when I found his stupidest book ever (The Friendly Possum) after The Book Cleansing had finished, I plucked it from his reaching grasp like the Grinch stealing the mouse’s last miserable pathetic crumb from the hearth.

Tomorrow we’re going to have to kiss and make up and bring a few books out of exile. I’m pretty sure Santa is bringing more books and we (all) need to practice being civil.

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