Baseball cap pulled low, sunglasses in place, a grandmother approaches the children's section of a book store, hoping no one will ask if she needs help.

It's one thing to request assistance in finding a copy of "Charlotte's Web," but quite another to confess you are searching for "Captain Underpants and the Preposterous Plight of the Purple Potty People."

Little boys love the comic book layouts of the Captain Underpants series.

I won't go into the lowbrow humor of Harold Hutchins and George Beard's antics in "The Bionic Bark Bunnies from Diarrhealand," (yet to be read) save to say the title sends second graders into fits of giggles and an occasional bout of hiccups.

George and Harold, the main characters in the books, are best friends and every teacher's worst nightmare. They lock horns with their principal, Mr. Krupp, until they discover a ring to hypnotize the poor man, turning him into a super hero. Dressed in white skivvies and a makeshift cape, Capt. Underpants fights crime to save the cartoon world.

The kind woman pointing the grandmother in the direction of the Captain Underpants' books is sympathetic.

"Boys do love these books," she reassures, "and, at least, they're reading."

Twenty minutes of reading is part of my twin grandsons' school assignment, Monday through Thursday nights.

Even so, after homework, supper, baths and the assembly of another LEGO creation, time with books does not come naturally to active boys.

Yet, these brothers will hunker down and read a couple of chapters of "The Wimpy Kid" or peruse a Captain Underpants adventure. I've shelved the Winnie the Pooh books and made peace with the loss of the winsome creatures in "The Wind in the Willows."

I still covet the role of she who sits in a rocking chair, reading aloud to small boys with Christopher Robin haircuts, but my literary offerings are totally irrelevant.

There was noticeable yawning when I broke out "Peter Pan," and several requests to "pause" the book.

Nobody perked up when I suggested Laura Ingalls Wilder's "Frontier Boy."

Young Captain Underpants fans may not be ready for reading workshops, but elementary school classes are participating in pajama days, with students taking time to burrow down in sleeping bags and read for pleasure, at their own speed, choosing their books.

It was been pointed out that adults have a hard time agreeing on the value of a book club selection, yet, often they narrow the choices for middle and high school readers, choosing from a list of enduring works, hoping Mark Twain's humor and story-telling will engage young readers or Mary Shelley's "Frankenstein" will garner meaningful classroom discussion.

The truth is (and I know this borders on sacrilege) some high school students do not connect to Harper Lee's "To Kill A Mockingbird."

Small-town life in the segregated South is slow drama compared to the pull of a novel showcasing a hunky vampire.

As former Assistant Secretary of Education Diane Ravitch observed recently, "What kid is going to pick up 'Moby Dick'"?

Teachers are finding twice a week, 40-minute sessions of reading for pleasure reel in middle school students, if they have control over the library books they pick and are not tethered to a novel chosen for the class.

One approach is to have students discuss a book choice with the teacher and with other students in the class, while keeping a journal of personal observations about the story line.

What we hope for, of course, is to offer plots and characters to stretch the imaginations of young minds and lay the foundation for a lifetime of reading.

It is one habit we live to applaud on the best and worst of days.

Yet, daily, reading competes with electronic mistresses, connecting and disconnecting children to the world and also entertaining them.

It takes Harry Potter, Capt. Underpants, and a host of heroes between the pages of books to do battle with an iPod.

Judy Elliott is an award-winning columnist from Marietta.