The Library
I wrote this short story a while back, and decided to post it here. It's also on fanfiction.net. I hope you enjoy it, and please leave a comment if you do :)
The Library
By LongTallSally
Disclaimer: I do not own The West Wing or any recognizable characters. I’m just borrowing them until Academy Award Winner Aaron Sorkin decides he wants them back. The character of Isabelle, however, belongs to me. I do not own any of the books referenced in this story.
Author’s Note: This story was inspired by an adorable little boy I saw in the library a few weeks ago. In the interest of full disclosure, I should probably also mention that I was inspired by Jennifer Wilson’s sweet and beautiful series, “Emily’s World.” I hope she doesn’t mind.
“Mommy, we’re going to miss it!” My daughter is nearly in hysterics in the two minutes it takes me to select the latest Tom Clancy novel for Josh, which he’ll never read, and the latest Nicholas Sparks novel for myself, which I won’t have time to read.
“Mommy, the Story Lady starts at one o’clock.” Isabelle is tugging on my arm, trying with all her three feet and thirty-five pounds of strength to drag me upstairs to the children’s section. Our local library has children’s storybook hour every Tuesday from one to two. We hardly ever miss it. Isabelle is enraptured by the Story Lady.
I check my watch. “We still have five minutes, Sweet Pea.” Plenty of time.
We make our way upstairs where the children’s section is designed like the Land of Oz. A fallen house complete with bewitching ruby slippers serves as the entrance, and a yellow carpet road leads to a shiny emerald castle at the other end of the room. It’s really very adorable. Isabelle carefully follows the curvy yellow pathway to the story area in front of the Emerald City, rather than taking the more direct route.
I sit down in the back with the other parents, and watch as the Story Lady, who is really an elderly librarian named Betty, takes her seat in a giant green chair. She begins to read from Beverly Cleary’s classic, Beezus and Ramona. I smiled when I see Isabelle laughing hysterically. Beverly Cleary was one of my favorites growing up.
Story time ends, and Isabelle and I walk over to the shelves to pick out some books. The shelves in this part of the library are only waist-high, perfect for little pixies in Tinker Bell t-shirts to reach.
“How about this one?” I suggest, holding up the classic, The Pokey Little Puppy. It’s a story about a dog who gets distracted on his way home and misses supper. I may have an ulterior motive with this one. Josh’s daughter can take forever to get ready.
Isabelle shakes her head. “Too babyish.” That has been her response to every book I’ve picked out this afternoon. Too babyish. Apparently, my taste in books isn’t mature enough for my four year-old daughter.
“This one looks good.” Isabelle pulls If You Give a Mouse a Cookie off the shelf. It’s one of her favorites. We get it just about every other week. Next, she picks out the sequels, If You Give a Moose a Muffin and If You Give a Pig a Pancake. What can I say? She’s very brand loyal.
Twenty minutes later, we have a stack of books that comes up to Isabelle’s waist. I try to negotiate down a little. “Belle, why don’t we pick out just ten books today? We can get the rest another time.”
She sticks her bottom lip out, and it begins to quiver. “But Mommy, I love reading. Please?”
I have to give in. Because, really, how can I deny my daughter books of all things. I love that she loves to read. I can’t wait to introduce her to The Little House on the Prairie and The Secret Garden in a few years. “Oh, alright. Let’s go check them out.” Fortunately, our library doesn’t have a limit on the number of items you can check out at one time.
“Yay!” Isabelle exclaims excitedly, flashing me her dimples, and looking so much like her father that I don’t have the heart to remind her to use her indoor voice.
When we get home, I put the stack of twenty books on the end table next to the couch. Twenty books should last us a week, right? Wrong. Isabelle eagerly climbs onto my lap with If You Give a Mouse a Cookie.
“Read another one, Mommy,” she says when I’m finished. So, we read another book, and another, and another. During the course of the afternoon, we visit the moon with Little Bear, discover a whole world on a speck with Horton, and of course, give a mouse a cookie. Isabelle tries to get a cookie too, but she’s unsuccessful. I may be a softie when it comes to books, but not with sugar.
That’s how Josh finds us when he gets home from work that evening. He chuckles when he sees us. Isabelle has fallen asleep in my arms, but I keep reading and stroking her fine blonde hair. I know she won’t always been this small or this content to spend the afternoon with her mom and a pile of books. I want to savor it while it lasts.
“How many did you read today?” Josh whispers.
“Twenty. Five of them twice. I think I’m losing my voice.”
“Here, let me.” Josh takes the book from my hands, and settles on the couch beside me. I lean back into his chest, and adjust Isabelle’s head on my lap.
In a soft, sure voice, Josh begins to read, “Goodnight room. Goodnight moon. Goodnight cow jumping over the moon. Goodnight light, and the red balloon...”
The End
The Library
By LongTallSally
Disclaimer: I do not own The West Wing or any recognizable characters. I’m just borrowing them until Academy Award Winner Aaron Sorkin decides he wants them back. The character of Isabelle, however, belongs to me. I do not own any of the books referenced in this story.
Author’s Note: This story was inspired by an adorable little boy I saw in the library a few weeks ago. In the interest of full disclosure, I should probably also mention that I was inspired by Jennifer Wilson’s sweet and beautiful series, “Emily’s World.” I hope she doesn’t mind.
“Mommy, we’re going to miss it!” My daughter is nearly in hysterics in the two minutes it takes me to select the latest Tom Clancy novel for Josh, which he’ll never read, and the latest Nicholas Sparks novel for myself, which I won’t have time to read.
“Mommy, the Story Lady starts at one o’clock.” Isabelle is tugging on my arm, trying with all her three feet and thirty-five pounds of strength to drag me upstairs to the children’s section. Our local library has children’s storybook hour every Tuesday from one to two. We hardly ever miss it. Isabelle is enraptured by the Story Lady.
I check my watch. “We still have five minutes, Sweet Pea.” Plenty of time.
We make our way upstairs where the children’s section is designed like the Land of Oz. A fallen house complete with bewitching ruby slippers serves as the entrance, and a yellow carpet road leads to a shiny emerald castle at the other end of the room. It’s really very adorable. Isabelle carefully follows the curvy yellow pathway to the story area in front of the Emerald City, rather than taking the more direct route.
I sit down in the back with the other parents, and watch as the Story Lady, who is really an elderly librarian named Betty, takes her seat in a giant green chair. She begins to read from Beverly Cleary’s classic, Beezus and Ramona. I smiled when I see Isabelle laughing hysterically. Beverly Cleary was one of my favorites growing up.
Story time ends, and Isabelle and I walk over to the shelves to pick out some books. The shelves in this part of the library are only waist-high, perfect for little pixies in Tinker Bell t-shirts to reach.
“How about this one?” I suggest, holding up the classic, The Pokey Little Puppy. It’s a story about a dog who gets distracted on his way home and misses supper. I may have an ulterior motive with this one. Josh’s daughter can take forever to get ready.
Isabelle shakes her head. “Too babyish.” That has been her response to every book I’ve picked out this afternoon. Too babyish. Apparently, my taste in books isn’t mature enough for my four year-old daughter.
“This one looks good.” Isabelle pulls If You Give a Mouse a Cookie off the shelf. It’s one of her favorites. We get it just about every other week. Next, she picks out the sequels, If You Give a Moose a Muffin and If You Give a Pig a Pancake. What can I say? She’s very brand loyal.
Twenty minutes later, we have a stack of books that comes up to Isabelle’s waist. I try to negotiate down a little. “Belle, why don’t we pick out just ten books today? We can get the rest another time.”
She sticks her bottom lip out, and it begins to quiver. “But Mommy, I love reading. Please?”
I have to give in. Because, really, how can I deny my daughter books of all things. I love that she loves to read. I can’t wait to introduce her to The Little House on the Prairie and The Secret Garden in a few years. “Oh, alright. Let’s go check them out.” Fortunately, our library doesn’t have a limit on the number of items you can check out at one time.
“Yay!” Isabelle exclaims excitedly, flashing me her dimples, and looking so much like her father that I don’t have the heart to remind her to use her indoor voice.
When we get home, I put the stack of twenty books on the end table next to the couch. Twenty books should last us a week, right? Wrong. Isabelle eagerly climbs onto my lap with If You Give a Mouse a Cookie.
“Read another one, Mommy,” she says when I’m finished. So, we read another book, and another, and another. During the course of the afternoon, we visit the moon with Little Bear, discover a whole world on a speck with Horton, and of course, give a mouse a cookie. Isabelle tries to get a cookie too, but she’s unsuccessful. I may be a softie when it comes to books, but not with sugar.
That’s how Josh finds us when he gets home from work that evening. He chuckles when he sees us. Isabelle has fallen asleep in my arms, but I keep reading and stroking her fine blonde hair. I know she won’t always been this small or this content to spend the afternoon with her mom and a pile of books. I want to savor it while it lasts.
“How many did you read today?” Josh whispers.
“Twenty. Five of them twice. I think I’m losing my voice.”
“Here, let me.” Josh takes the book from my hands, and settles on the couch beside me. I lean back into his chest, and adjust Isabelle’s head on my lap.
In a soft, sure voice, Josh begins to read, “Goodnight room. Goodnight moon. Goodnight cow jumping over the moon. Goodnight light, and the red balloon...”
The End