Stealing from children

A very "Waiting for Superman" thing happened to me today. Not me. To children somewhere because of a thing I did. Not a thing I did, but a thing that happened to children and that I benefited from. An afterschool program in South Central LA was closed this week due to funding. Now they have to find out what to do with all the children's books, furniture, crayons and other tools of learning before they are forced to vacate Saturday. My sister helped the woman run it back when it started six years ago so now she's helping make sure all the stuff goes to good use. So I was invited to come in and see if there was anything I'd be interested in taking. And there was! Hundreds of books that I read as a child were stacked on tables waiting for me to re-live. And I scored! "Murafo's Beautiful Daughers" (google it!), "Indian in the Cupboard", "The Return of the Indian" (IitC pt. deux), "Of Mice and Men" and "The Little Prince". It was awesome until I thought that I've read these books, and now because I'm taking them, some other child may not get the chance to read them.

I was conflicted the whole time I was rummaging for books. It was like looking through the wardrobe of a dead woman at an estate sale. I was happy for my finds but disturbed by the circumstances. Also, I felt that with the way my room is decorated with dinosaur toys and stuffed animals, the children's books would make make me look like either a retard or a p[a]edophile. (A very lame one that tries to lure children into her den with books.) It was sad, but the woman goaded me to take as much as I could. And I did. (those books.) So hide your children. (Lest I read to them.♥)