When our grandchildren lived with us, we went to the library every other Saturday. Enough books for two weeks of daily reading would fill our reusable shopping bags and piled into the back of my car. My granddaughter, Coco, at 5-years-old, would go to the picture book section of the children’s room to find the twenty or so books that interested her.
I would, of course, try to find books for her. I picked out my favorites from childhood, Stone Soup, Caps for Sale, Mike Mulligan and His Steam Shovel; show them to Coco, and predictably she would say, “nah, I don’t like that one.” Inevitably, she would pick out the books by looking at the cover and say, happily, “This one, Grandma!” She was not in a rush to get computer time, like her brother and sister. She took her time, carefully taking a book off the shelf, looking at the front and back covers; replacing it when it wasn’t to be put in the pile.
Fancy Nancy, anything Eric Carle, covers with pink or princesses or pigs (those made her giggle), made their way to the station to be checked out. Coco had to do this part herself, carefully sliding the books’ bar codes under the scanner, waiting to hear the “ding” before handing it to me.
Every day for two weeks we would read at least two books after dinner, then it was bedtime; even on the weekends. It was absolutely my favorite time of day. It was a gift to see the library through her eyes and read books that she found entertaining. Thanks, Coco!
- From limelight to spotlight