Thank You Notes from September 1

Dear Honest Library Patron,

Thank you for turning in my $10 bill to the circulation desk. I'm sure you remember me. Really, who wouldn't? I was the one with the three-ring circus that following her around. I arrived with a baby in a stroller and an eager four year old and my mom. My mom is kind of hard to pick out because she insists on standing far enough away that the casual observer might not notice that she is, indeed, part of my circus. My initial stop was to pay a fine at the circulation desk with the $10 bill, but then I found out that if I waited until next week and brought in a few cans of food, they'd waive it. So I stuffed my $10 into my pocket at the same time my four year old--who I taught to LOVE the library--was yanking on my hand to go pick out more Diego, Dora, and Bob the Builder books. Which of course I LOVE to read over and over again until my head starts spinning and I'm talking in stunted sentences.

After we picked up his books and I was given a generous allotment of about 5 minutes to pick out books for me, we headed up to the check out computer, where my four year old insisted that he run each and every book--18 in all--through the scanner, despite barely being tall enough to see over the ledge of the counter while standing on his tiptoes. All this while my 9 month old in her stroller was pulling down everything within reach and screeching like a hyena and my mom was looking at the pet rats--I know she HATES rats. HATES them with a vengence usually reserved for murderers and ultra right-wing conservatives. But she was observing them for quite some time while a line of other library patrons waited patiently for my four year old to scan. each. book.

I'm not sure where I lost my $10, but I'm guessing it was at this particular point.

After gathering my trio of circus acts, I left and went to the store, where I couldn't find my $10 bill and nearly took a fit in the parking lot. My mom helpfully suggested that I clean out my purse sometime soon, at which point I might have glanced at her with something resembling a death glare. She then insisted that we drive back to the library and I run in to ask if someone had turned in a $10 bill (honestly, as if!) and so to placate her (and because I felt a little bit bad about the death glare and accompanying comment suggesting that I was well aware of the fact that I needed to clean out my purse), we did just that. As I neared the front door, I thought about just standing inside for a few minutes and then leaving, but I gathered my courage and asked the lady behind the desk. She looked at me like "yeah, as if" but dutifully went to the back room to see.

"When did you lose it?" she casually asked as she returned.

"About 10 minutes ago." I said with a laugh, trying to convey that I knew there was no way someone would turn in a $10 bill but it was worth a shot.

At which point she handed me my $10 bill and a look that said something like "go ahead. Take away the new book we would've bought for some deserving child. Maybe your child even."

So, thank you very much for being honest.


Dear Child Tender at the Gym,

Thank you for taking my overly curious four year old for 45 minutes yesterday so that I could get some peace. Despite the spin instructor not showing up, and some stupid rule saying that I can't leave my less than 2 year old in the nursery with you, I had a wonderful 45 minute workout on a bike, where I got to read in (almost) complete silence. It was a nice feeling that I haven't felt in a long time.

Ah. It was just what I needed to get back in the car with said four year old and make the 15 minute drive home, where he continued to pepper me with question after question. After question.

Dear Neighbors,

Thank you for kindly averting your eyes when I walk by, because I'm pretty sure you can hear what goes on behind closed doors at my house. I would like the record to show that it is my four year old who screams like a girl, and not in fact, me (usually). He's quite unbelievable, isn't he?

Dear Aunika,

Thank you for reminding me why we wanted a second child. You're so easy going and happy. You don't cry a lot. You scream like a hyena and screech like a chimpaneze in public, but other than that, you're perfect.

Dear Josh,

Thank you for reminding me why we should stop at two children.