I needed to make a quick trip to the library and asked Pippi if she wanted to come along. "I really do, but, Mommy I need to work on my story and I'm at a really good part." So we packed up paper, markers, pencils, and crayons and took off.
We browsed the stacks for awhile. She was delighted to find her favorite orange cat, Chester, back on the shelves after his long disappearing act. Can I just say, I HATE the library during the summer. Too many people, too few books. Ransacked shelves, all our favorites no where to be found. But I digress. I picked up our copy of Adele and Simon (thanks so much Silvia!), and we headed upstairs
We found a table, bathed in afternoon light, overlooking the duck pond. I explained quietly that we were in the adult section and must be quiet as church mice. She smiled and squeaked, "like a mouse," she whispered. She sat with her stack of books, flipping through Mailing May and Dodsworth in London. Then she pulled out her story-in-progress - something about Pippi, Tommy, and Annika playing tag with their shadows - and fell into her work, the only sounds her quiet whispers and the occasional squeak of her marker.
I've taken a break from A Severe Mercy, needing to put some distance between myself and Van, Jean, and Lewis. So I opened Great Expectations and before long, I found myself chuckling, not so very softly, through a particularly witty passage.
"Mom," Pippi whispered. "Mom, your supposed to be quiet in the adult library. Stop laughing," she said, frowning, stealing furtive looks at our neighbors through the curtain of her hair.
Let's just say, we had to leave. People were staring. But in my defense, it was awfully funny, my little girl behaving as an adult, and myself with no more self control than a child.
Then, this evening, we're having dinner. Tommy stuffs his fist into the peanut butter jar and my mom hides her face in her armpit, body shaking in silent laughter.