By Josh Siatkowski | Staff Writer

Few franchises will ever reach a fraction of the pinnacle of Jeff Kinney’s children’s series, “Diary of a Wimpy Kid.” Following the life of the misguided Greg Heffley, his eclectic family and his caricature of a middle school, the series now has 19 books, a number of spinoffs and a legendary trio of movies (that’s leaving out the 2017 disaster of a film).

For most of us, Greg’s adventures are a distant memory in the same mental compartment as our own elementary school days.

Those who had the Scholastic Book Fair in elementary school will remember the arrival of a tissue-paper catalog of the hottest children’s literature. There was always the new “Big Nate,” a 3000th volume of “The Magic Tree House” or for the more eclectic, the latest events in the wild life of “Junie B. Jones.”

But garnering more eager eyes than anything else in the catalog was the next edition of “Diary of a Wimpy Kid.” We flocked to the teaser like moths to a lamp. What would Greg get up to this time? Who are the new family members we will meet? Will Greg ever get to high school? And of course, what color would the cover be?

Many of us read “Diary of a Wimpy Kid” more voraciously than we have ever read, tearing through pages faster than our reading levels would predict. For some, it was the book that made reading fun.

Somewhere between the ages of 10 and 13, though, most of us lost that craving for the next book. Maybe you closed the brown covers of “Diary of a Wimpy Kid: The Third Wheel” and subconsciously decided that the seventh book would be your last. Maybe you made it a little further to the 11th edition, the red-and-yellow-striped “Diary of a Wimpy Kid: Double Down.” By that point, I wouldn’t blame you for leaving.

At 19 volumes in, the publishers are consulting with color theorists, creating new combinations that ensure each book has its own distinguishable spine. New characters are introduced, but they do not leap off the page and come to life like Rowley Jefferson or Patty Farrell did. The stories continue, but the reserves from which Kinney drew his marvelous ideas appear to be running dry.

And Greg, let’s be honest, should have a family by now.

But even as I’ve grown further from the target reader’s age and my peers have picked up books that aren’t written in Comic Sans, I have stuck around. The elementary school days waiting in the library for the newest title are gone, but the books still come to me through Amazon orders and half-serious birthday gifts.

From a literary perspective, you aren’t missing much, as only two of the last nine books crack my top 10 (if this gets enough views, I’ll publish the full list). But even with Greg’s best days behind him, there’s a sense of obligation to stick around in exchange for the good times his stories brought me. I haven’t been inspired by a “Diary of a Wimpy Kid” book for quite a few years now, but that’s not what I’m looking for.

Now, 500 words later, I have arrived at a conclusion that’s nothing new, and explained easily by a years-old phrase.

Why do I read “Diary of a Wimpy Kid”? For old times’ sake.