A long-lost friend reappears

I found myself at Barnes and Noble the other day. I was with a friend who was shopping for items to put on a bookshelf for her child's classroom auction. After my initial confusion about the classroom auction not being the actual sale of children, I set about helping her select books.

"They studied the human body and eagles this year," she said, "so I want to get books that have something to do with those subjects."

I looked around the kids' section. The bookshelves were all disproportionately low. It makes sense I suppose, as their perusers would likely be short, but I think the retailer should have more respect for the backs of the wallet owners.

Every book in there looked like so much fun. When was the last time you purchased a book that was packaged with a craft kit, or toy dioramas, or a recorder instrument, or a chemistry set?

"Oh my GOD!" I said to my friend, who was an aisle or two away.

She whipped her head around. "Shhh! Indoor voice."

"But look!" I rushed up to her, holding up my find. "It's Mr. Bones!"

"Who's Mr. Bones?"

I eagerly pointed out the plastic pieces, all anatomically correct and just waiting for assembly into a fun skeleton friend, approximately 13 inches tall.

"I had one of these in middle school! It's how I leared the bones of the body so well. You HAVE to get this!" I thrust it into her hands, not waiting for a response.

"Oookay," she said. "Are you sure a book wouldn't be better? It would go better with the theme of the bookcase."

"Smookcase," I said, already lost in the other treasures of the Kids' Section. "Mr. Bones is the raddest thing EVER and I bet your bookshelf will get a lot of bids just because no one will have ever seen anything quite so cool."

There was still another Mr. Bones on the shelf. It was $17.

Never mind that I can recite the human skeleton, musculature, and organ systems by heart. Mr. Bones is educational! It's always okay to spend money as long as it's for an educational purpose.

After carefully assembling his knee bone to his thigh bone to his foot bone, I'd dress him up in seasonal attire and place him on my mantle.

My friend stood next to me and watched these thoughts go through my head.

She took me by the arm. "Let's go," she said. "He'll find a good home. Perhaps to someone who is actually 12 and not 30."