No Angry Birds for this kid. My daughter’s favorite new game? “Library.”
The game involves a dozen books–MJ’s own, of course–placed about our living room in an orderly fashion, (OK–a preschooler’s version of one.) There’s a “card” made of a chip of yellow construction paper. Finally, “scanners,” (otherwise known as mismatched salad spoons.)
“The library’s open now, guys!” Myra-Jean calls, in an almost absurdly cheerful trill. “What books do you need today?”
Mike and I stumble in with our hot mugs. It’s hard to be creative at this hour, but we try.
“Um, a book about knot tying?” says Mike.
“Something on the care of flamingos, please,” I mumble.
MJ retrieves the “appropriate” volumes. She taps both the card and the books with her salad scanner.
“There you are,” she concludes gaily. “Did you need a bag?”
We say we don’t. We get one anyway.
Yes, it’s (announcers voice) “the library game!” Coming soon to a living room near you. Or maybe not. Us, we get it every morning. And God forbid we should move one of the “stacks” in order to sit down.