Just got back from the library.  I don’t know what your experience is at the library, but mine resembles a 100 yard dash.  My philosophy is get in and get out, sort of like a marine on a hostage rescue mission (in this analogy, I guess the books are the hostages).  So, I usually end up grabbing the books that are on display on top of the shelves.  You know, the books that have a theme.  Oh, it’s Hispanic Heritage month.  Great!  What, is it Hanukkah already?  Fine.  So, it’s National Chinese Take-out Month.  Who knew?

Well, today, I sat my son Asher and daughter Iris down at a table with pieces of scrap paper and pencils.  When I returned from my sprint to collect them, my son informed me that he had written a letter to both me and his Dad.  When I asked what the letters said, he first solemnly read mine.

“Dear Mommy, I love you.  From, Asher.”

Of course, I was touched by his affectionate, imaginary note.  Then I asked what his letter to Daddy said.

“Dear Daddy, Take out the garbage!  From, Asher.”

Had to laugh, yes, right there in the library.  I think I might have guffawed (always wanted to use that word), and I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to do that in a library.