We checked out the same library book again and I am the only one tired of it

My three-year-old walked past a shelf full of books and selected the one about the duck with the missing hat.

Again.

I knew where it would be because I had returned it the day before. I could probably have shelved it myself, which is not a service our library has requested.

I held up a book about a train. She said no. I held up one with a dog on the cover. She said the duck needed his hat.

The duck finds the hat every time. I have personally supervised this outcome on a schedule more reliable than anything else in our house.

I used to picture library trips as a parade of charming discoveries. In practice, I follow somebody who wants to inspect the same picture, sit in the same chair and borrow an object we had at home yesterday.

Last week I tried leaving the duck book out of the stack. She noticed before we reached the checkout desk. I told her we had already read it. She said she wanted to read it again.

I had no argument beyond wanting to read something else myself.

So this time we borrowed the duck and one book I chose. That is our whole arrangement. She gets to pick what she wants to look at. I get to add something I might enjoy reading aloud. She isn't required to like my selection as payment for getting hers.

At home, she wanted the duck first. I read it. Then I offered the other book. She looked at three pages and went to find a toy.

I resisted announcing that the trip had been wasted. She had gotten exactly what she went for. The person whose imagined afternoon hadn't happened was me.

There are evenings when I don't want to read that particular book, and I say so. Choosing a library book doesn't give her unlimited control over every reading session.

But the shelf isn't a test of how adventurous she can be. Tomorrow the duck will lose his hat again. Apparently we have unfinished business.