Here's my recommendation for ways to build your child's library.

This whole not-necessarily-bad-but-pretty-spendy habit started about a month ago, when I had to pick up Zoey from daycare and take her in to the Convenience Care clinic for an ear infection. They wanted to make sure she didn't have the flu, so they did a nasal swab--and as she was sobbing after having her "nose tickled", I promised her if she could be brave, we'd go to the bookstore and she'd get a new book when we were done at the doctor's office.

Which turned in to two new Little Critter books.

Then, the next day, she still wasn't feeling great, so I bought a new Dora book at Target so we could read something new. Because Little Critter is entertaining and all, but when read over and over and over, he loses some of his appeal.

Then she had a flu shot a couple weeks later. Another new book.

And there was the trip to the dentist last week. Yet another Dora book to add to our collection.

So just as I'm starting to think I am the sole person keeping the kids section at Borders alive, we happened to be at lunch at "Old McDonalds" today with my grandma, stationed at a booth next to the window, which was just toooo much temptation for my active daughter who makes it seem like sitting still through one meal is the greatest torture of her life. I warned her not to stand on the sill between the window and the table. I made her sit back down. She slithered back to her precarious position. I had to remind her yet again to sit on her bottom while eating. And then I gave up. Which is precisely when she slipped and fell, slamming her little mouth in to the table top, and came up screaming the silent-scream while drooling blood EVERYWHERE.

Once we got the bleeding to stop (a very helpful McDonalds employee was suddenly our own personal servant, running to grab napkins and ice and a bag to stuff all the bloody napkins in so it "wouldn't look so gruesome in the trash!") I was able to determine that all teeth were intact and still attached to the gums...and that Zoey had bitten clean through her bottom lip.

It took awhile to assure the hovering employee that we were fine, or rather, that we weren't thinking LAWSUIT, and before we left, Zoey was devouring an ice cream cone. Not so bad, right? I mean really, how are they going to stitch up a lip?

Are you laughing yet?

The more I thought about it, and the more I watched the gash on the outside of her lip ooze each time she dragged her teeth across it (a nasty habit she's picked up to replace the near-constant use of the binky), the more I wondered how well it would heal on it's own. Oma thought I should call the pediatrician. After 20 minutes of waiting on hold for someone (anyone, really) to answer my question, I gave up. And called my work to talk to one of my doctors (you know, the ones who specialize in colons and guts) to get their opinion. I was told "sounds like stitches to me!"

Awesome. Just. Freaking. Awesome.

I'll spare you all the gory details. If you've ever had to tether your child to an exam table for stitches, you know what I'm talking about, and if you haven't, you don't want to know. It will make you not want to ever have children and/or trade in your non-stitched children on house cats.

After nearly two hours, we left the clinic with a fat lip, one stitch, and a tearful request to go to the bookstore.

And now we are the proud owners of Dora's Spooky Halloween and some random Baby Einstein farm animal book.

I remind myself that if I were rewarding her bravery with candy, she'd be close to 100 pounds by now. Because that makes me feel better.