The Crush

From the moment I cracked open and devoured Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone I could not wait for the day I would have a kid with whom to read it. I imagined us snuggled together in bed, my little one rapt with attention as we flipped page after page, neither one of us wanting to stop. I could not wait for the anticipation for the next book (I even considered making my child wait a year between each read, because, after all, I did, sometimes even longer!).

This summer we attempted the first book because E. had expressed some interest when she saw me rereading The Order of the Pheonix over the summer (she also wanted to read Outlander by Diana Gabaldon because my mom was reading it, but we decided we'd better save the sexy Scottish warriors for another time). After learning within the first chapter that the heroic boy wizard had been orphaned as a baby (not much younger than her own little brother) she needed to stop. It just wasn't fair! She had said. How could that happen? So, we stopped, and I wondered if this initial read was just too soon and feared that it would prevent her from ever wanting to try to read the series again.

But then, something wonderful happened. E. made a friend at school and that friend loved Harry Potter (so much so, I heard, that she is going to be Harry for Halloween this year). This, and the fact that there is a movie I will not let her see until she has read the book with me, prompted E. to beg me to start reading The Sorcerer's Stone once again. With a little reluctance, afraid I would really ruin it this time, I started the book again.

And she's loving it.

We're on our way to Hogwarts as we speak and she is thrilled or chilled by each character she meets. She thinks Hagrid is sweet, the Dursley's are vile, and she's already picked up on Draco Malfoy's general awfulness. But most of all, she is absolutely enamored with Harry. And who wouldn't be - he's a kind, humble boy who has a sense of justice. Who wouldn't admire a person like that?

Today, at the doctor's office, she got to pick a sticker, per usual. I spotted a sticker with Harry and Hermoine on it and pointed it out. Immediately, E. snatched up and told the nurse who had been offering the stickers that she was reading Harry Potter and loved Harry (the book, she meant, of course). Later that day, she came downstairs, a bashful grin on her face.
"Mama," she said. "I kissed Harry Potter on my sticker."
My, oh my, what have I done?