I bought two books.
And this book:
I'd been hearing good things.
Then I left them on the coffee table. Like a science experiment, but without foul odors (mostly). Diana came by, and opened the cover of Fangirl, and read the flap copy, and closed it, and looked at it, and walked away. Chestnut came and did the same. They went up to their rooms. They recovered from their weeks. They did mysterious things in their rooms.
And then Chestnut came down again.
She picked up Fangirl, plopped down on the couch, and read for a while. Then she brought it up to her room.
An hour later I saw her lying down reading it in my office.
Then she was on her floor. Reading it.
We (parents) went out to dinner. For a nice long while. We came back and she was reading it, lying down on her floor in the other direction.
We put on a movie (you can tell we live a wildly exciting life, can't you?) and eventually Chestnut descended the staircase, looking soft and unfocused and pleased. She set it back down on the coffee table. "Finished it."
Also: she liked it. A lot.
It made me remember what an absolute pleasure it is just to fall for a book. You're reading it and you don't want to check your email, or go eat dinner, or do a single other thing than to just keep reading it. The most wonderful thing.
Did you remember that you could do that? It helped me remember that I could do that. It's worth remembering.