A melancholy feeling

I love books. I have never been able to say "no" when those book orders come home with the kids. When Josh was little I joined book buying clubs because I loved fun picture books. I love browsing Half Price Books and Barnes and Nobles (for kids books only). I'm pretty sure I have spent more money on books than any other household item (furniture included). I have two bookcases full of books. I might just have a problem.

Anyway, the young women were doing a book drive to collect books for a local battered women's shelter. I thought this would be a great way to sift though some old books.

It was a great way to sift though books, but I was surprised to find myself reflecting on my little children (they used to be little anyway).

As I was going through the picture books I remembered back to the endless book reading at nights. "Just one more book, please, mom (or dad)!!" I remembered making funny voices (or listening to Jason make those voices; he was much better at it than I was) for each character and how the kids would giggle at each.

I remember the kids trying to keep their eyes open just a little longer.

I remembered Joshua's "Big Book of Everything" that was/is worn so much we had to tape the inside pages so they wouldn't fall apart. He would devour that book each night and want more the next.
I remembered Bree's sweet little voice trying to go low and say, "NO David, NO!" or "I'm Sorry, I Did It" in a soft repentant voice.


I sat on the floor looking at those books feeling very melancholy, wishing for those days back. For those who still have little toddlers, cherish those dirty little hands, high giggling voices, messy little mouths, and stinky little toes. They grow up so quickly.

We still read to the kids every night (currently reading #2 in the Percy Jackson series, "Sea of Monsters") and now they say, "just one more chapter, please, mom (or dad)!!"