So I've always been a big reader, see, and as a kid I mostly borrowed books from the school and town libraries because there wasn't a lot of money for purchasing books and I burned through them anyway. That was a particularly long run-on sentence so I think it's only fitting that I try to outdo it with the sentence immediately following which would be this one and it's getting rather long and run-onnish and suddenly the first one doesn't seem so bad now does it?
Anyway . . . the only box set of books I ever remember owning, and I own them to this day, is The Chronicles of Narnia. I no longer have the box they came in, but the 7 paperback books have always been stored, in order, in the bookshelf in our bedroom. With the movie coming out I decided to re-read them. John got interested and, being unfamiliar with the books, decided to read at least The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. And yes, as a matter of fact, he WAS born in a cave and raised by wolves.
He's also a slow reader (those wolves were not so good at phonics, you see) so it took him a few weeks to finish the first book and by that time I had read all the way through The Magician's Nephew. A few days ago he asked what the second book was called. "Prince Caspian," I told him. "Where is it?" he asked. "In the bookshelf," I replied.
And that brings us to last night.
The scene was cozy. The children were in bed, the fireplace was blazing, the tree was shining VERY BRIGHTLY, I was folding laundry on the couch, John was in the chair, and we were watching "As Good as it Gets" on TV.
Suddenly it was like deja vu.
Suddenly it was like deja vu. (See what I did there? heh)
"What's the second book in the Chronicles of Narnia called?" John asks me.
"Prince Caspian" I reply, looking at him with a puzzled look and wondering if he's going all Memento on me.
"Where is it?" he asks.
"In the bookshelf"
"WHERE in the bookshelf?"
"With all the other Narnia books"
"I didn't see it."
"I'm sure it's there. It's even in the proper order." (I said that last part with a lot of smuggish confidence)
"Didn't you read it recently?"
"Then what makes you think you put it back?"
OH NO HE DIH-UN'T! Oh yes . .. he did! He said that very snarky thing about my general messiness. My mouth flew open, I scrunched my face into a meanie-look, gave him a huffy breath, dropped several socks, and stormed up the stairs to prove him wrong.
Now, the truth is, I was a little worried that he might be right. I don't always replace things in their proper place. Things are found in all sorts of odd locations, like when I recently found my new orange hoodie in with the Halloween decorations while navigating the storage room looking for Christmas decorations. The only thing I can think to explain why I put it there is that it was orange. It might have sat there for a YEAR had fate not intervened. Instead I've worn it non-stop for 3 days to make up for not having it for so long. Today I'm washing it. No worries.
So imagine my triumph when I found the good Prince Caspian right there in the bookshelf where I said he was and in the proper order! I put on my gloaty face toot sweet!
I stepped out of our bedroom to the landing above the family room and this is where reason left me. From the landing you can see the whole family room and there was John sitting nicely in the chair, feet up on the ottoman, absorbed in the movie, with that big ol' lap target just calling out to me. "I should just toss this book right onto his lap! That will show him!" I thought to myself. So without much further thought . . . (No thought, for instance, of how horrible I am at hitting a target. No flashback, for instance, to my high school softball coach screaming at me that I couldn't hit the broad side of a barn if it were two feet in front of me while rubbing the red mark on his bald head that was caused, naturally, by a recently-thrown softball by, naturally, yours truly.) . . . I tossed the paperback book right toward his lap.
From a height of 15 feet or so.
It missed his lap, of course, and hit him in the shoulder/head instead.
He jumped about 4 feet in the air and said "What the &^%$#?!" because it scared the crap out of him, that's why.
I did immediately apologize and said that I was aiming for his lap, but he was still very mad at me. Imagine that!
"What were you thinking?! You can't toss BOOKS from the balcony - you could have really hurt me!"
"Well it IS a paperback. What? You might have got a paper cut? If you wouldn't have accused me of not replacing the book I wouldn't have had to throw it at you!" (The logic. I'm so good at the logic.)
"If a corner of it hit me in the temple it might have KILLED me!" (Now THAT'S a bit melodramatic, I think)
So we settled into a grumbly silence and I picked up my socks again and then . . . it got worse. I got the giggles. Bad, unstoppable, inappropriate giggles.
"Are you laughing about the BOOK?!"
"No! I'm laughing at the movie!" (But it was weak. So weak.)
"There's no funny part in the movie right now. You're laughing about the BOOK! I can't believe it! That's it! I'm going upstairs and throwing it at you."
"OK, fine. Feel free. I'll try not to cry like a wee girl." (Slightly immature, but worth it)
So off he stomped, book in hand, up the stairs.
"Are you ready?" he called down.
"Sure. Knock yourself out." I said, very bravely, although bracing myself a bit for the impact.
"Nah. I lost the desire." he says.
Now at this point I realized that he really DID think it was dangerous to toss a book, albeit a paperback, at someone from the balcony. I mean, I thought he was just upset because it scared him, but I think he really WAS worried that someone could get h..THWAP!
The book hit me square in the head.
"Yes!" He cried out, very gloaty-like. He looked just like Tom Hanks in A League of Their Own when he took out that little twerpy kid Nelson. He even expected me to COMPLIMENT him on his aim! Can you believe that?! Sheesh.
It didn't really hurt so much as just smarted a little. Still, I think we'll be retiring all book launchings from now on. We've decided to be adults again. (Well, sort of.)
And you know, it must have been rather a treat for ol' Caspian. He was quite brave, remember, and would have jumped at the chance to fly, I'm just sure of it. C.S. Lewis would have been so proud.
So this morning I woke up with the giggles again.
"Are you still laughing about that book?" John called out from the bathroom.
"Well it's just that it's very blogworthy!"
Don't you agree?
Happy Wednesday! Oh, and wish me luck - I'm baking today. Yesterday's fudge was a disaster. The kids think it tastes wonderful but it won't win any beauty contests. *sigh*
TPBQOTD ("Oh no! No. Please!" "What is it? What's the matter?" "They're kissing again. Do we HAVE to hear the kissing part?!" "Someday you might not mind so much." "Get on to the Fire Swamp. That sounded good!")