Skip to main content

Parent trap?

Lately I’ve noticed that I lean toward working in the children’s room at the library. I have a couple of guesses regarding this. A) No one else likes it. B) I’m so bitchy that I may be a good candidate for this special place.
I side with both.
Working in the children’s room allows me to make certain observations, namely that there’s a great divide between children who want to listen to their parent read a story aloud and kids who ask me for laptops. 
Then there’s the breastfeeding moms who manage to text while they nurse. Talk about multitasking. I can’t help but think about the little beams of cancer-causing agents going between her cellphone, her boobs, and her baby. I told you I’m bitchy. 
Then there are the harried moms who couldn’t possibly put away the 4,000 toys their kids just threw all over the cute little carpet in the room. I can’t blame them. They brought 42 toddlers with them, probably doing another 14 moms a favor, and it’s all they can do to open the door of their minivans. 
We have grandparents too. Wanna take a guess as to whether or not grandchildren put their toys and books away? That’s right. Grandma and Grandpa don’t leave without making junior put his stuff away. I love them and any other rogue parents who actually take the time to put away all the stuffed giraffes and teddy bears that inhabit the room. It’s even better if they get their son or daughter to help.
Today, though, was great. A little boy came in with his mom and he actually sat in a tiny wooden chair and listened while she read to him. I thought, “Wow, this mom is awesome and that little boy is great.” They tried out different seating areas…in a cubby-type place, in the middle of the floor on bean bags, and finally him in mom’s lap. 
They picked out a half-dozen books to take home and even promoted the putting away of toys to other moms and dads in the room. 
They came up to the “librarian’s desk” (real librarians have a degree—fake librarians such as myself do not). The little boy handed over his books while his mom searched for her library card. He looked me right in the eye and said, “When I ride in the car, I pick my nose.” 

I just lost it. After a day of the Dewey decimal system, a laugh felt great. Thank you, little man. 

Comments

Anonymous said…
That is Hilarious!!! Love it!! ;) Honesty is the best policy and oh so funny!!

Anonymous said…
That is Hilarious!! Love it!!

Popular posts from this blog

I Like to Call Them Ow-Bows

   It’s a toss-up. Do I write about the fact that if you search “jobless goddess” in Google the dairy goddess and the library goddess come way ahead of me, or do I write about the fact that my husband is incapacitated due to a broken elbow? I guess I’ll go with the broken elbow. Besides, who the hell breaks their elbow anyway? My husband of course.    It started out innocently enough. I, in my desire to lose weight and become the wrinkly, thinner woman I was meant to be, decided we should start up the morning walks again. I prodded him while he was still under the covers. “Come on, let’s do it. You know we have to do this,” I said while tugging on my really sexy yoga pants (which, by the way, never get used for yoga).    To his credit, he got up, pulled on his pajama pants and went with me. We got about a 16 th of a mile past the driveway before he landed in the gravel. I’m talking a bed of gravel. Gravel embedded in the palm of your hand. Gravel ...

He sells sea shells, I wish

   So now rather than being obsessed with fake fingernails I can’t afford, I’m becoming obsessed with checking this blog. I’m pretty sure all 52 views were made by either me or my husband.   That leads me right into the current situation at hand. We need friends. We’re desperate for them. I’ve started handing out my telephone number to people I meet while doing my meager freelance work. They think it’s for the story I’m writing but really it’s in hope that someday they’ll find a reason to call and then I can hit them with, “By the way, do you play cards? Bingo? Gin Rummy?” If I wasn’t so arthritic I’d throw Twister in there.    It’s not so much for me, it’s my husband who likes to have people around. I have become hermit-like since moving here while he has become convinced we could die here and not be found for months. He had friends back in Syracuse but he chose to stay home at night with his loving wife. Now all of a sudden I get the impression he’d h...

Parish the Thought

     I love small towns. When I lived in Parish, New York, there was no end to the reverie, not to mention the constant parades.      We had a Halloween parade through town featuring people of all ages marching in costume along a rather abbreviated parade route. It all culminated at the fire barn where a couple of old draft horses would pull along a hay wagon. Most all town festivities featured the fire barn.       Monday night bingo held there. The caller was a volunteer firefighter prone to bringing on fits of laughter when he drew N 44…which he pronounced as "N farty-far," whereby producing great gales of cackling from the middle-aged women who showed up every week, I think maybe just to flirt with the caller and the other male volunteers who collected their money. Don't get me wrong, I'm not making fun. I spent more than a few Monday nights there myself.      The gas stations served as restaurants in Parish. You...