This morning Hope was trying to fold a big stack of paper, but couldn't quite create the crease.
Because of my reputation around the house for being "the strongest man in the whole world ever," she asked me to execute the fold (naturally, a feat I finished with fortitude).
After the fold, however, her dilemma: The papers were not holding together, but the folio count was too high, and our tape would just not suffice.
"What would you do Dad?"
Enter the codicological imperative. I knew the doctoral research I did for those obscure footnotes would one day come in handy.
And so, "Of the making of books" we began.
An aesthetically pleasing hue for our first page? We had that covered.
The making of books was at its end.
The way I read the situation, Hope and I really turned a page in our relationship this morning. Call it, bonding by binding.
And, while the chronicle of our codex-creating caper is complete, the story of "girly girl" and "handsome man" (the stated direction of her immanent compositional activity) is still on the horizon.