This past holiday season, Diana had the excellent idea that her cousin, who has just started to read chapter books, and is a very foused, intense sort of person, should read Secrets of Droon.*
Oh, how this series was loved in my house. It's a sort of sci-fi/fantasy version of the Magic Treehouse? Sort of? There are many, many volumes.
So we went to Book-Off and purchased books 1, 2, 3, and 4. And lo and behold, Diana was right. He started reading the first one—and he couldn't stop. He burned through 2, 3, and 4, and now the sky's the limit. My sister called me asking whether we had any more. And thus began the roundup. We went through all the shelves, gathering book after book. Tossed in as well were Jack Russell: Dog Detective, A to Z mysteries, a seemingly endless slew of Boxcar Children books, until we had three big bags, and my kids' shelves looked…like the shelves of people who are 13 and 11. Which they are, but still.
I mean I know, this is what we wanted to do. And the cousin is so, so happy. It's just that it feels weird, that's all.
Chestnut sneaked in and liberated some Girls to the Rescue books ("they're my favorites"). And there's one or two George and Marthas hidden somewhere.
The cousin is, reportedly, very happy. I am too. It's just…change is weird. Growing up is intense. And other news flashes.
*A note of caution: do not attempt to read these yourself, if you are a grownup. They are…they are not for us. And that's fine.