We spent Saturday afternoon in Barnes & Noble, thanks to a generous gift card from our friend, Lindsey, in California. The kids and I spent an hour piling books on a short table in the children’s section and trying to decide the best use of the funding, while Ryan browsed CDs.
We browsed big books, small books, fat books, thin books, scary books, silly books, story books, picture books, lift-the-flap books, look and find books, and finally came up with this:
And this:
I thought these were great choices, especially considering the emphatic way Max continues to use the homemade term, “Pireworks!” to mean “Pirates”. (It’s a conglomeration of ‘pirates’ and ‘fireworks’, both of which he discovered during the 24th of July weekend.)
We got in the car, books on all laps, and began driving home singing Yo-ho! Yo-ho! A pirates life for me! Yo-ho! Yo-ho! A pirates life for me! We pillage, we plunder, we [shoulders shrugging] rape(?), we kill(?), drink up, me hearties, yo ho! Weeeeeeeee du du du du du du du du du du, drink up, me hearties, yo-ho!
“Do you think it’s weird that we bought our kids pirate books?” I asked Ryan, suddenly realizing that Walt Disney duped me into thinking pillaging, as long as you’re devastatingly handsome and funny, is okay. (And don’t even get me started on the plundering…)
“Why?” he asked.
“I don’t know. I guess it’s better than buying I Can Stencil Terrorists and My Big Book of Pedophiles.”
“Or Look and Find Suicide Bombers.”
