Oops. Normally, I have 6 children's books—3 for Rose, 3 for David; 2 poetry; 1 well regarded novel, and 1 psychokiller murder mystery. I read the children's books morning, noon, and night; the poetry I dip in and out of—this month I read all of Ellen Bass even though it wasn't very good and reveled in Steve Kowit; the novel sits on the floor until it's time to return it, and I devour the psychokiller.

But this month, I ordered a bunch of videos for our various trips. And they came pouring in—Bob the Builder, Dora the Explorer, Thomas the Tank Engine. David thinks he's died and gone to heaven. We must have 20 annoying dvds sitting on our coffee table, except for the ones David has already opened and clutched in his hands.

I have several novels I might actually want to read; Philip Larkin, Diana DiPrima, Larissa Szporluk, and Auden for poetry; and a few extra children's books because we went to a shadow puppet show at a different library and, of course, had to get more books there.

I hope I actually get to read on our various trips.