Too mature for the book fair?? Who knew this day would come?

 The other week when I was running to Costco, Coop asked me to grab the newest Diary of a Wimpy Kid book, and I was delighted. I really thought both he and Dorothy were too sophisticated for those books, and I was sad to relegate them to other outgrown series like Cat Kid and Dog Man and Junie B. Jones and even the graphic novel Babysitter’s Club books.

He read it in under 45 minutes, but THAT’S OK— the point is he still wanted to. He is really into Percy Jackson right now, so that’s another series I can buy. And Dorothy is still reading my old scary tween/teen faves, so that makes me feel all warm and fuzzy.

Really, though, I didn’t realize how much I miss having little kid readers who like little kid books until the elementary school book fair rolled around.

By some miracle from the heavens, I scheduled Dorothy and Cooper’s annual well kid check ups back-to-back first thing in the morning on a day that neither Dorothy nor Minnie had school.** After the doc (and taking Coop to school where he barely missed a THING because his school starts so freaking late), Dorothy had her parent-teacher conference, and the school books fair was open. I was excited to take her and Minnie because I thought they would both find something great, and we could all go home and read.

Only **record scratch**  Dorothy did not find a single book she wanted because everything was “TOO BABYISH.” Talk about the end of an era I didn’t even know could end!! Total heartbreak.

Not too big for silly pajamas or to walk with me though.

Also, Minnie cried when the conference was over because she wanted to “STAY HERE AT THIS SCHOOL ALL BY MYSELF,” so that always makes you look awesome— when your kid doesn’t even want to come home with you.

(And the pediatrician told Dorothy— who hates vaccines and cries at the mere thought of them— that she could have 2 shots this year, 2 shots next year and no shots when she’s 12 OR 1 shot this year, 2 shots next year, and 1 shot when she’s 12 OR no shots this time, three shots next year, and 1 shot when she’s 12. AND DOROTHY PICKED THE FIRST OPTION. She said, well, the thing I hate the most about shots is knowing I have to get them, so let’s just get it over with. She really IS growing up.)

** Seriously, this NEVER happens to me. Like, for example, each twice-yearly dentist appointment I schedule is WORSE than the one that came before it— so brutal. It’s like the me of months ago REALLY HATED the present-day me and decided to enact her revenge with impossible scheduling. BUT HOW COULD I KNOW WHAT CLUSTERFUCK WOULD AWAIT ME COME APRIL WHEN I SCHEDULE THINGS IN OCTOBER?????