Children's Books

Today, I bought three children's books on BarnesandNoble.com (Remember my shopping problem.) I purchased The Tale of Three Trees by Angela Hunt, Giraffe and a Half by Shel Silverstein, and Chicka Chicka Boom Boom by Bill Martin Jr. and John Archambault.

And yes, I probably didn't need them, but what sparked this purchase was #1: a coupon to get one children's book at half price, if you buy one at full price (go figure); and #2: I read to two elementary classes on Tuesday of this week, and it just reminded me of all the great children's books out there. There are a few books that I can remember being a huge part of my childhood, bringing back so many memories. The three I purchased are a part of that few.

And there is just something about a new, freshly printed, never opened, hardcover book. The smell of it. The perfection of it. The history behind the story in it. I know that sounds weird, but I love the tangibility of books. The fact that the story I hold in my hand will probably last for centuries past my death. The fact that I own a piece of history. It gives me chills just thinking about it.

Not to mention, I want to have a large library one day, like the one in Beauty and the Beast, with gliding ladders and shelves upon shelves of literature. I want to be surrounded by all of the great writer's before me, hopefully inspiring greatness in myself and in my own writing. wiht my stories, I want to altar history, affect it somehow, in someway. I want my stories to be written down and then cherished by someone who loves the smell of books, and the perfection you can find in them. Someone who wants to own a piece of history. Someone with a shopping addiction and a coupon.