Why the librarians should act nicer about me checking out forty books a week

I have this dream of raising life long readers. Kids who stay up late with a flashlight to finish a good book. It's really important to me.
Out of all the classes I taught, I had one class of mainly boys who were exceptional. As a group, they were athletic, considered cool, and in my seventh hour because they were very smart. And get this, they were all addicted to reading. Which isn't coincidental that they loved reading and excelled in all their classes. Somewhere along the road in elementary school, some librarian, teacher, parent or probably a combination of the three had lit a reading fire in them. They traded books with each other. Recommended thick novels and then discussed them. Asked me as soon as they walked in the classroom if they were going to get silent reading time that day. Like I said, they weren't nerdy, and a few were a little mouthy, so I let those rowdy rascals have plenty of silent reading time while I put my pregnant feet up and surfed Gap Maternity. It was great. I ran into a mom of one of these old students the other day. She was working at the mall and recognized me. When I asked about how Hunter's senior year was going she told me about all of the colleges he had been accepted to and which engineering program he had chosen. I wasn't surprised.
School, standardized testing and writing essays for college comes easier for bookworms.
Because of this, and because I know that choice and having ownership in what they read are so important, I give David and Drew a lot of freedom in choosing library books.
They have discovered the non-fiction section. Which to me, is where they check out the world's most boring books. They can each choose five non-fiction. David usually chooses stuff like the history of the Ford car or how rocket ships are built. Drew likes books on marsupials or dung beetles or amphibians. I allow this because it makes them so very happy. Even if the books are so long that I have to paraphrase until my head hurts.
While they choose these, I have discovered the fun books on subtraction or the necessary books about subjects that are uncomfortable like, "Your Body is Your Body." I rush around and grab a couple of these.
Then, we move on to the DVDs. Equally boring "Animal Atlas" or "The Best of John Deere." I don't know how they stand it.
We then head over to fiction where Drew gets piles of babyish board books. He just loves them. If there is a Baby Einstein symbol on it, he puts it in his basket. He knows they are baby books, but he reverts to a much younger child at bedtime and likes the touch and feel books. Whatever. I grab some easy readers for David, because he can recognize the sight words and then some Truck Town books that he thinks are hilarious.
Oh, and somewhere in all of this I have checked out three or four books to listen to on CD. On Fridays, Drew is with me in David's carpool line and that wait gets a little long. If we have errands those stories on CD are lifesavers.
So you can imagine what we lug to the check out desk. Some mean twist of fate has made it where my library card doesn't work at the self checkout. I swear, they see us coming and whichever librarian has done something bad (dog eared a book?) has to check us out. David wants all his books completely separate. They can't be contaminated by Drew's. And Drew, who has been fairly good for the entire time decides he is going to let loose and gets real comfortable. Sometimes he lays on a bench and bangs his heels. I am picking up books and sorting books and asking Drew to come back with his board book if he wants it checked out. And no one who works there is very friendly or at all helpful. Heaven forbid they help a five year old who is trying to stuff a giant truck book in a little plastic bag.
When thirty have been checked out, they tell me I have reached my limit. I then ask for them to look up David's (lost) library card. Yesterday, they actually made me show my identification for this. Grrr. At the end I wish for a wagon to haul all of our treasures to my car so that I could leave faster. No one has offered us a happy dalmatian sticker in weeks.
I have this compulsion to stand there and explain to these people why we have so many books and that we do read/look at every single one of them before returning them the next week. I think they just want to go on their lunch break.
Who knows what either child of mine will grow up and be? But I will know that I gave it my darndest to help them love books when they were little.