She was mad that she had to go to bed, and we told her she could stay up and read a book with her flashlight. She decided to use her stool to reach the tippy-top shelf of her book case and bring down my special Dr. Seuss books.
I kept hearing weird tearing sounds. I'm a book freak. I could hear tearing, but it didn't register appropriate paper-weight through the walls as I imagined it might sound if she ripped through some of her current favorites.
I couldn't figure out what she was doing. It sounded like tearing but way more muscular and slow.
I finally barged in and was horrified.
MY DR. SEUSS BOOKS. She killed them. They are forty years old. She ripped up the spines like they were Fed-Ex packages.
Oh, she is in the doghouse.
After I saw what was going on, I removed the entire shelf of "Mommy's Special Books" that I share with her because I love her. I put them in my office, and I told her how sad I was that she would treat books this way.
She asked, "If I hurt *my* books, will you take those away to your office, too?" YES, I WILL, you book-eating beast! I will take all books away from you until you starve in that way that one does without books.
Gosh, I'm so pissed off. But I ate the corners of those same books and can still taste the glue. Part of me is thrilled that she decided to reverse-engineer a book. Yes, she wanted to be mean. How smart of her to choose the old books up on the top shelf. She could achieve maximum impact with little effort.
My three-year-old ate my books! I'm mad at her but I admire her sense of curiousity. I kept those books for 40 years. They've come undone.