On the occasion of my birthday, my four year old son brought me a package he’d wrapped himself, and proudly announced: “You got books, dad. They’re your favorite thing.” He dutifully unwrapped them, commenting on how nice they were, and handed them to me one by one. Even better, he gave me a card he’d written himself, his eyes shining with pride, grinning from ear to ear. He wants to read them with me and play the boardgame I got, too. He’s a keeper.