Loving Stories, to pieces

In the past two weeks I’ve had to explain to a librarian twice why I’m returning a ripped book.

Jack just can’t get enough stories. He loves books to pieces. Literally, And it’s not just mischief or rampant vandalism—sometimes we’re right there in the room with him; he’s sitting on our lap—and that quick—he’s taken off the last page.

He’s also to an age where he’s asking for us to read the same book over and over. Over and over. Again and again. It’s a board book, thus not a lot of pages. Even so, the idea of reading the same 10 pages for 15 minutes is hard to stomach. It’s like Ground Hog Day for toddlers; he loves it. Because mostly his reaction is also on repeat. At the end of the train book where it drives off the page: GONE! He responds bye bye. Each time.

I come to anticipate not just the words but the feeling of loss, the end of the story. And his reaction.

And gear up, to do it all over again.

Freight Train by Donald Crews