Why do we go to the library? Why? If the kids like the books they check out, there is sobbing and misery at the prospect of returning them. If they don’t like the books they check out, the books sit and gather dust, enriching no one’s lives or décor.

And now that the summer reading program is over, every time we head to the library we must sadly review the details of exactly how much each of us misses the book reporting. (Abigail: quite a lot. Owen: only when reminded. Audrey, Dane, Melissa: good heavens, not at all.)

Besides which, we never manage to keep track of when anything is due. We must have paid the library twenty dollars in late fees this summer. And we don’t even check out movies (with their dollar per day late fee), just books (ten cents for every day late). Way to go us!

But I don’t suppose we’re likely to get Borders or Barnes and Noble to let us read dozens of titles a week before we decide what to buy. And sometimes we need to look at books without the interference of flashy-blinky-noisy push-button “books,” or shelf after shelf of character-based activity books.

So I guess we’re stuck with the library, flawed though it may be. (Or may not be; for all my griping, we’re there twice a week.)