Josh just finished Swim the Fly—I could hear him giggling all the way in the bedroom while I was out here doing Cybils stuff—and then stomped into the living room in search of the sequel.
He was so upset that he threw his arms out and spun around—seriously, it was like something out of Les Mis—and said, "HOW. HOW IS IT POSSIBLE THAT YOU OWN THIS MANY BOOKS, BUT YOU DON'T HAVE THE ONE THAT I WANT?"
So, you know, I ordered it.
Because I'm all about feeding his addiction.
And having a complete set won't hurt, either.