I remember very little about my own childhood prior to high school. I can only assume I have blocked out most of these years because they would otherwise be traumatic and detrimental to my current well-being. What I mean is, I’m sure I was a loser.

One thing I do remember about elementary school that I absolutely LOVED was book fairs. Sure, I could’ve gotten most of the books they offered at a much cheaper price elsewhere, but there was something about having all of those children’s books targeted to sucker in kids like me that was special. When my mom had the money to give me, I would clean those places out. And I would always make sure to balance out the brainless crap with things worth reading. And not because my mommy made me either! I was a rather sophisticated child and did it of my own accord.

I got the new Goosebumps, the cool Leonardo DiCaprio biographies, and The Bridge To Terabithia. Of course, I only remember the details of the DiCaprio biography. And those pretty, pretty, full-color glossy photos in the middle.

So when my future kids become of age to participate in book fairs, they will not be sent into the library jungle with my wallet and a set of restrictions on what they can buy. I WILL BE SLITHERING THROUGH THE CROWDS WITH THEM. Even if there is nothing but kids’ books, I will find something to buy for myself. I am that immature. I’ll probably giggle over the High School Music 7 picture books and pounce on whatever is the future equivalent of the Harry Potter series. And then I can take my kids home and read them bedtime stories, continuing to read long after they’ve fallen asleep.

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