I don’t know if it has an official name, but I suffer from the fear of not having a book with me. Have you ever been in a doctor’s waiting room and panicked because you forgot your book? Yes, the magazines in the waiting room will do in a pinch, but I try to come prepared with a book that will fit in my purse.

I’m not quite as bad as the guy I saw a few years ago with the newspaper spread across his steering wheel as he was cruising down the Thruway (I hope he found a support group), but I did have to unload my suitcase in the airport once because my many books caused me to be over the weight limit. I was afraid that I would run out of books before my trip was over. My husband was not amused.

This week I found my granddaughters reading in the jungle. They have a big toy that has jungle animal shapes and makes jungle animal noises. They had pulled it into a corner and were sitting behind it when I came in. “We’re in the jungle, Ahma,” Molly (3 years old) announced. Then she stepped out, got a book and came back to sit down. “Janie,” she said, “do you want me to read you this book?” Janie (1 year old) nodded her head up and down and said, “Yesh.” Every once in a while one of them would accidentally hit the noise button and a monkey would laugh or a parrot would caw. Maybe they liked hearing someone reading in the jungle, too.