I grew up in a household headed by a father who proclaimed that the bathroom was NOT a library. You do your business, and then leave the room. (Although I admit to stealing some private time, dallying occasionally when the kids were really small.) Having a magazine rack in one's toilet to hold the reading material was akin to leaving your rusting truck in the driveway up on cinderblocks.
I'm not as quite a stickler as my dad, but we don't really have a habit in this house of preparing for a restroom visit by finding a book or choosing a section of the paper to accompany us. So imagine my surprise recently when I opened the bathroom door to come face to, ummmm face with my son, book on his lap.
Both of my children love to read; which is great. Great, great, great. Don't get me wrong in any way, I'm not commenting on his obsession. I was just very surprised. He was kind of embarrassed. But he's obviously enjoying this series.
So much so that he begged me to go to Chapters as soon as they open this morning, purchase the next book in the series, and then deliver it to him at school. In time for first nutrition break. Please, please, pah-leeeesse...????
Yes. Yes, I did.
