I�m not entirely sure where yesterday went. I was too busy to write at diaryland, but not busy enough, apparently, to have much of a recollection of what happened to the day.

I know that the early morning was spent tidying up the kitchen, while AJ, with an armload of toy people, pretended that the temporarily emptied cupboards and drawers were a large apartment house in �The Big City.� Despite having spent all but the first few months of his life in suburbia, he seems to have a good grip on urban behavior. His apartment-dwelling plastic people are surly and argumentative with one another. �Quiet down there!� shouts one two-inch high little girl that AJ has named Miranda. �I�m trying to read a book!� Jack and Steve, Miranda�s would-be playmates went off in a huff. However, all was soon forgiven and Miranda, Jack and Steve were soon found sleeping together in the drawer that usually houses the egg beater and measuring spoons. At least, they were sleeping together until they got into some kind of fight, after which Miranda announced, �Jack, I�m not sleeping with you any more,� and stomped out of the drawer in search of some more desirable real estate.

I�m wondering if AJ has been sneaking out of bed to watch a little late-night cable tv.

After our habitual Sunday morning at the local pool, a family lunch and a nap for AJ, I piled my 35 overdue library books into a wheeled suitcase and two tote bags and we piled in a car for a drive to the university, where I hauled said books to the circulation desk in the library to renew them. �Are all 35 books there?� asked the student working the desk. �Yes,� I replied. �Then you don�t need to take them out. You�re all set.�

Now, I appreciate the fact that the circ workers can check my books in and out without the pain of my piling all the books on his desk for inspection. It probably saved us both at least 20 minutes. But what, exactly, is the point of the library forcing you to haul in your books in person if they are not going to bother to look at them? Technically, I could have done this while sitting on my ass at home. Or at the very least, I could have wheeled in an empty suitcase.

Library bureaucracy aside, we had a pleasant evening otherwise. We picnicked in the heat in front of the university chapel with a handful of others who were listening to the weekly concert of the carillon. It was a beautiful night, hot and breezy and it was fun to walk around without the pressures of teaching or meetings to keep us on a schedule.

We are paying the price today for our evening out, however. AJ is beyond cranky. He pitched a screaming fit in the library, ironically immediately following his selection of his prize for the summer reading project � a copy of Beverly Cleary�s Ramona the Pest, in which we see Ramona pitch several kinds of fits. I�m starting to wonder if AJ�s Beverly Cleary obsession � we�ve read four of the books aloud in the last two weeks � is having a negative affect on his behavior. But mostly I think that Cleary has perfectly captured the joys and frustrations of being four years old. Tantrums are par for the course, alas. It is, however, making me glad that we are not resorting to more public forms of transportation for our vacation.

The vacation is fast approaching. AJ announces the number of days remaining before our departure each morning when he comes into our room to wake us up. The worktable on the other side of my office has aquired a more purposeful sense of clutter: piles of presents for those we�ll be visiting, luggage awaiting use, piles of maps and itineraries. While my husband has a tendency to get anxious about departures, I love the buzz of excitement, even when traveling a route we�ve done a dozen times or more to a place I�ve known for most of my life.

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