We went to the library for the first time in ages last night. I'd taken it out of the loop of routine because my fines went over $5 and I'm a criminal like that, but then my daughter told me last night that she couldn't remember what the children's room looked like. D'oh!
I ended up with one of the Noah Lukeman writing books since I've never read them, Do You Speak American?, and Gilead. As far as I can tell, my little library has exactly jack and squat about intentional communities -- which would be useful right about now.
My daughter got two books about dinosaurs, and a leprechaun story. I have no idea what's up with kids and dinosaurs -- I grew up before that whole prehistoric marketing machine was in place.
But the leprechaun book, that's easy to explain. One day, I was late picking her up because I couldn't get the car started because I was low on gas. I explained to her that I'd told the house leprechaun to remind me to refill the tank, and he'd forgotten as he always does. Since then, I have to scrape up a Seamus the Leprechaun story about twice a week. He goes to a lot of picnics (which is why he's never around when my daughter gets in the car). In the most recent installment his father came with him to a picnic and ate everything. So anyway, I found the leprechaun book and showed it to her, and she was excited -- but then a little disappointed. While the leprechauns in it have pots of gold (very important), they don't have red hair -- and Seamus definitely has red hair. I had to explain that it was normal for leprechauns to have different colors of hair. Well, as normal as the whole conversation could be to begin with.
I'm a little way into Gilead and honestly? I'm having a hard time with it for a peculiar reason. About fifteen years ago, my great aunt wrote a family history that covered from the 1600's until my younger cousins were born. It's written in much the same tone as her letters -- very warm and engaging, and probably unlike a lot of other books of its ilk I reread it and enjoy myself. Gilead is obviously different, but there's enough genre similarity that I find myself itching to go get my aunt's book. I think once I get to know the characters better the itch will subside, but it's been a reminder that sometimes good things are as close as your dusty bookshelf.