As I unloaded a trunkload of guy goodies last week, a tiny chunk of petulant poutiness came sneaking up from my gut. It worked its way to my throat, where it stuck for the next 12 hours.

Baseball gloves, bats and balls times three – no fair! Never mind that I’d bought myself a new glove last spring, when Big Guy’s sudden ability to throw bullets made my small, well-worn model a pain in the palm. It was the second shopping spree in as many weeks – the previous Saturday it was shirts, shoes and pants because the little buggers won’t quit growing – and all I got out of the trips was a tube of toothpaste.

What would it be my turn, I moaned. Am I not entitled to a little something, too?

I’ll blame it on the warming weather here. It seems that the second my thoughts turn to spring, my brain meanders toward the electronics aisle. Last year it was the camera I’d wanted for years. Two years ago I broke down and bit the Blackberry bullet, but only after I’d agonized for three months over the expenditure.

I’d been eying the Kindle for at least that long. I craved its convenience as I made trip after trip to the library as part of my campaign against aliteracy – mine -  in the household. Why must I comb through the stacks when Project Gutenberg is at my fingertips? I coveted the Kindle’s sleek portability as books competed with toys, socks, stickers and gum for space in my purse. Why must I suffer, I whined.

The suffering ended this week when the UPS driver dropped the box on the stoop. I’d already been buying and downloading books, so all I had to do was hook up the WiFi, transfer the content them and …

“Hey, Momma! This says ‘Curious George.’ Is there a Curious George on there? Did you get it just for me?” Boots asked, flashing me one of his beatific smiles that I never can resist.

“Yes, babes, I did. There are a few books on there for your brother, too.”

“Hey, Big Guy! Mommy got us books, too! They’re on our Candle!”

“Kindle,” I corrected.

But “our” Kindle? OUR Kindle? I’d barely even touched it beyond plugging in the charger, and suddenly it’s our Kindle?

And so it was for the rest of the evening. Boots kept himself amused during Big Guy’s football practice and karate class, then Big Guy took over at bedtime.  They read for far longer than they would have in the days BK – Before Kindle. Yes, part of it was the novelty of taking over Mom’s new toy. Yet, I’ve seen the same thing happen before. Big Guy will cheerfully practice multiplication tables online, but he’d kick if I asked him to look at flashcards.

As for me, I laid beside Big Guy and the Kindle and read my “content”- an old-school version of “I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings.” Maybe one of these days the digital natives will let go of “our” new toy and let the luddite take a spin.

Copyright 2011 Debra Legg. All rights reserved.

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