Saturday, November 19, 2011

Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone by J.K. Rowling

I just finished reading this book to my son, Will, who is 6 years old. He begged me to buy it for him and to tell you the truth I thought he would not be able to handle it. He has a history of getting scared and can't even stand to watch Disney movies. But this magical book worked its spell on him and right now he can't sleep because he is thinking of questions (Who will be the new Dark Arts teacher next year? and Will Voldemort ever get his own body?) If I were J.K. Rowling I would have wanted to watch this kid read my book. He was alternately snuggled up to me, then sitting up full of questions, then full of amazement (Voldemort killed the unicorn?), and occasionally hiding outside of the room almost not able to stand the suspense. Oh, and of course he was laughing (especially when the troll got a wand up the nose). And you should have seen him adding up the points as Dumbledore kept giving Gryffindor more and more points toward the House Cup. He almost erupted into cheers when Neville got those 10 points. I have a new appreciation for this story—so full of honest childhood moments (mean kids and trading cards and dreams of being a sports hero) yet at the same time full of the most wonderful magic ever dreamed up. Reading this book together has been one of the best parts of being Will's mom (so far).

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