Bookworm


"That's my little bookworm," he said with a smile on his face, shaking his head slightly in disbelief.  "The more advanced it is, the faster she devours it."

"What I don't understand," said his wife," is just how she manages to get a hold of them.  This volume was on the top shelf of the bookcase!"

"Are you sure you didn't leave it out accidentally?"

"Quite sure."  She looked at him.  "Did you leave it out?" she returned, raising her eyebrows in query.

"I haven't looked at that volume in years," he defended himself hastily, flushing slightly.

"So it magically flew down into her hands."

"It must have," he nodded wisely.  "Isn't that right, my little bookworm?"

The little girl in his arms looked at him seriously for a moment, before stretching eager hands towards the book his wife was holding out of reach.

"No, dear, not until you're older."

"Is she hungry, do you think?" he wondered.  "Are you hungry, little bookworm?"

"She's probably spoiled her dinner already," his wife half-grimaced, half-sighed.  "But it's worth a try."  She headed to the kitchen to prepare a meal for their daughter, replacing the encyclopaedia volume on the bookshelf on her way past.

"Well, I'm sure your mother won't take long," he informed his bright-eyed little girl, putting her down on her rug and handing her a stuffed bear.  He picked up a journal for himself, and was soon lost in articles about the latest innovations in dental surgery.  It wasn't until his wife returned with their daughter's dinner that he noticed the teeth-marks and the missing corners that the dictionary now bore.

The traffic of floating books that flowed between the bookshelf and his daughter's welcoming hands, he never noticed at all.



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