A six-year-old girl just came in with her grandpa. Tayla couldn’t find any picture books to suit her, so Grandpa & I selected books we thought she might like. At random, I pulled out one called: “Big Rabbit’s Bad Mood.” I laughed inwardly, because I happened to be in a Bad Mood myself, although I was successfully acting cheerful on the outside. On impulse, I plopped down and read part of the book to Tayla, making growly voices for the Big Bad Mood as he followed Rabbit, “stuck to him like glue.” I wanted to get Tayla interested in the story, but I also wanted to know how Rabbit got rid of his Mood, for me! Just as Rabbit got a “very, very brilliant idea” about how to get rid of his Bad Mood, I clapped the book shut. I told Tayla that she should take the book home to read and then tell me what Rabbit did about his Mood so I could get rid of mine.
I was rewarded with a small, shy smile. Tayla decided to take the book home. Grandpa told me that Tayla often pretends she’s a librarian and makes him check his books in and out properly at home. I beamed at Tayla, amazed that I had made any impression on this quiet little girl, who has barely looked me in the eye or said three words to me in all the time I’ve known her.
I still don’t know what Rabbit did to get rid of his Big Bad Mood. But Tayla, her grandfather, and finding the right book for them (and myself), rid me of mine.
The thrill of finding the right book, (or information), at the right time, for the right person. I love being part of that, and this library profession that holds that process at its center.
Doris Jean Metzger, MLIS
Van Etten Library