Last week the boys and I went to the library for the first time in three months. Keegan had been complaining about not having any books to read. Not true but I knew what he meant. As much as I love outings to the bookstore, there are only so many trips that the budget can handle. Not that we don't enjoy the library. I loved going to the library as a child. I remember sifting through the books, sitting at the window seat overlooking the river and then coming home with a tower of books. Weekly trips to the library have been part of our life since Keegan was just a wee little man. That is, they were a part of our life until three months ago.
Confession time. I am horrible at returning books to the library on time. I have the best intentions and I try, I really do. I write it in my day planner but this seldom helps since there are years, yes, years, when I don't use a day planner. I sign up for the electronic reminders from the library through my email but have yet to receive one notice. The last librarian who suggested I sign up for the email notices did not believe me when I told her I already had. She didn't actually use the words but I knew what she was thinking. So the due dates pass unnoticed until the phone calls from the library begin a week later. Perhaps I wouldn't find that automated voice so antagonistic if she could just pronounce my name correctly. So three months ago, the fines had climbed their way to the point where I just could not bring myself to pay them. They were not as bad as that sounds. Christmas had just passed and I felt guilty about paying library fines at the time. Although the fines were not terrible, I had reached the point where my library privileges were blocked. Ugh.
Back to the present. I sucked it up, paid the fines and the boys once again enjoyed browsing through the stacks. As they browsed, I browsed and I spotted this book.
Interesting. Into the bag it went and we headed home.
There is just something about cutting paper. Quinn was only about 18 months old when he began using scissors to cut paper. Keegan had not been that young but I think that had something to do with being a first-time parent rather than ability. Anyways, watching his brother, Quinn pretty much insisted on having scissors too. He would sit there for about an hour, just cutting paper into little pieces. He loved it. Keegan seems to be more interested in cutting holes in his socks. Oh well. To each his own. So armed with this book, last week I began folding, drawing and cutting.
I now know what 18 month-old Quinn was feeling. It is fun. It is relaxing. It is cutting paper.
Every couple of days, I have to cut a little paper. I now have a little collection of paper cuttings scattered throughout the house. I like looking at them swirling in the drafts. I'm not sure what I will do with them, if anything. They may become cards in the future. They may just decorate our living space. Who knows? But I think I'll keep cutting.