Saturday, May 25, 2013
So yesterday afternoon, after tae kwon do, the guys ventured out to meet me at the Barnes & Noble near my work. Not that they generally need an excuse to go hang out at a bookstore, but in this particular case, the motivation was that The Boy had a particularly good tae kwon do class and wanted to strut around in public in his gi for a little while before he had to give up the glory. Twist my arm! I agreed to meet them for coffee and books.

As usual, we camped ourselves out on the stage in the children’s section, each with our own pile of reading material. And, also as usual, we had to kind of hover over our piles of reading material lest overzealous bookstore employees reshelve our books before we got to them. For the record, we always reshelve our books when we are done. The Boy is no exception. We’ve even trained him to put away other books from the stage if he happens to know where they belong, because our goal is to leave things even neater than they were when we arrived, if possible. I’d like to take credit, but this is all Tad and his “worker solidarity” home-school curriculum — you know, the one that also includes rousing sing-alongs of the Soviet anthem. I support it, because it is just good manners. Even so, we are occasionally met with bookstore employees who all but snatch the books out of our hands in their zeal to make sure everything gets back to its proper place. I mean, I sympathize, as a former bookstore employee myself. But dude. Give me a second, you know?

The Boy was fully involved in a Berenstain Bears book when he saw, out of the corner of his eye, a bookseller reaching for the Dr. Seuss book he was planning to read next.

“Excuse me,” he said, with manners that made me proud. “I still would like to look at that book.”

“Oh, that’s fine,” said the bookseller lady, and I assured her that we would shelve it when we were done. She went on about her business, but she came back a few minutes later with a little pamphlet. She scooted a bench over to where The Boy was sitting and began to sell him on their summer reading program. About which, I am embarrassed to say, I was unfamiliar. I should have known about it! We were already on board with the Richmond Public Library one, where you are entered in a drawing for a Kindle Fire, and the Pizza Hut one, where you win — wait for it — free pizza. But this one had somehow slipped by us.

The pamphlet, which was actually a reading log, had spaces for The Boy to record the names and authors of eight books read over the summer. Then there was an additional space for him to write a brief review, which was a nice touch. Then — then — on the back, there was a short list of books from which he would be allowed to pick one title to receive free for completing the reading log.

And on that list? Was a Hero Factory Bionicle book.

She didn’t have to ask him twice. He was gung ho on their reading program from that moment on. Who needs pizza? Kindle what? He was all about getting that Bionicle book.

We logged one book before we left the bookstore, and when I left, I saw bookseller lady signing up another kid over by the train table. She should totally get a raise, and a medal, because she is the champion and evangelist of the summer reading program. A woman after my own heart. I salute you, bookseller lady! Thank you for all you do for reading.


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