|And into the next generation . . .|
Husby is a book lover.
Always has been.
I am, too, but not to his extent.
I remember, in our lean student days, him walking in the door, happily carrying yet another treasured acquisition. I told him if he dared to bring one more book into the house, I was going to have to boil it for supper.
He just laughed. Completely unrepentant.
Moving forward . . .
We’ve raised readers.
All six of our children love it.
I thought it was because of the hours their father and I spent with this happy pastime.
And it might be.
But last night, I was reminded of something Husby used to say when the kids were small. Something I dubbed his First Rule of Acquisition.
Let me tell you about it . . .
I’ve never been a shopper. Traipsing up and down aisles, looking at ‘stuff’ never appealed.
I’d rather stay with the ‘old and familiar and comfortable’ then look for something ‘new and exciting’.
It’s just me.
But Husby loves to shop. And is gracious enough to haul all-and-sundry around with him.
Yep. Inevitably, when there was shopping to do, we went in a herd.
Six kids. All of whom are very
They would see brightly, attractively-packaged toys and immediately want them.
If we’d received a nickel for every time we heard, “Mom? Can I have . . .?” We’d never have had to pay for our shopping.
And that’s when their father, genius he, would tell them, “You can choose one toy.”
Their faces would brighten.
“Or two books!”
The thought process reflected in those faces as they turned it over in their minds was almost comical.
And, surprisingly, much of the time, they went for the books.
I thought they were simply cannily maximizing their procurements. (Ooh! Good sentence!)
I didn’t realize that their father was actually training them for a life-long love.
But he was.
And, fortunately, he did.