The good stuff

Some evidence of our children's growing up makes us sigh wistfully; other instances make us gasp with alarm.

But it was only pleasure yesterday to watch as Edith, demure and serious in a long white cotton sundress, approached the circulation desk at the public library, reached up to hand the librarian her selection, Henry and the Paper Route, then carefully took her little purse off her arm, unzipped it, pulled out her library card, handed it up to the librarian, rezipped her now-empty purse, waited for the transaction to be completed, then took her book and her card back, unzipped the purse again, and carefully put away her card. Then she thanked the librarian, the first words she'd spoken in the whole encounter, and was on her way.