It's that time of year again

Banned Books Week, kids.

I come from the kind of family where, had any book been banned or restricted by my school, both of my parents would probably have rushed to purchase it for me simply to poke a finger in the eye of the censors. Trying to conjure up the image of either of my parents writing a missive to the school board demanding the removal of any books sends me into fits of irrepressible giggles.

Both of my parents are book freaks, and they passed it on to me. My mother has shelves upon shelves of history-related books. When I stay at her place, I know I always have access to various historical biographies to read in the bathtub. (This time it was George Washington.)

Bloggerdad has a whole room full of books on this or that topic. During my youth, it was a ritual to go to dinner and browse a bookstore after. He was, on the whole, unmoved by any request that he purchase me consumer goods to satisfy a whim, but he never (and I really mean never) turned down a request that he buy me a book.

So naturally, neither of them ever presumed to restrict my reading materials, certainly past the age of 10. There's only one thing that comes close. When I was 17 or so, I grabbed the book "The Writer's Art" by James Kilpatrick and waved it at my Dad, which was shorthand for "how 'bout you spring for this here book?" He glanced at it and said, weakly, "Kilpatrick? Kilpatrick?"

But he bought it anyway. It's downstairs right now.

In that spirit, I'm going to go right now to buy Trailhead Kid a banned book. I think I'll go with "And Tango Makes Three."