Taking him to the library used book sale leaves you completely and utterly frazzled (of course, also having his younger brother along made it worse). First, he insisted on taking all his quarters and his small bills, even though we told him I would cover him.

Once there, he ran upstairs to the sale (this is our second sale trip), and got to work. Back and forth between the children's tables and the oh-so-sweet retired lady volunteers, who think he's a riot. He's very polite, insisted on paying for his brother's finds as well and of course can do his own calculations. However, the crack cocaine that is books was coursing through his veins and he kept disappearing around the corner to go buy more. The final straw was when I found that he'd slipped away to purchase what appears to be a very detailed Joan of Arc biography for (much older) children. Being not quite ready to discuss being burned at the stake with a seven-year-old, I confiscated it and he was Not Pleased. Because why in the world is it Too Old for HIM?!

A candy store wouldn't be as bad with this one.