Like a ton of other adults out there, I’m not ashamed to admit that I’m a Potter.
As in a fan of Harry Potter.
Although I was right around 30 with children far too young to read or even enjoy Harry Potter books, I discovered them when my book club suggested we read the first Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone. That was back in 2000.
After the first page, I devoured the book in one sitting and went right out to get the second two. I was charmed and captivated. Since then, I’ve purchased new releases as soon as they came out. Each time housework was neglected and dinner reduced to whatever I could throw together while flipping pages.
To some extent, everyone in my family could fend for themselves until I finished.
I couldn’t wait to share Harry with my oldest son, David. When he was a little squirt in kindergarten, I started reading the series to him. We read all eight books together mostly before bedtime. He was as captivated as I was.
When the last book came out, we went to the festivities in downtown Naperville. By then Brennan was hooked too. The boys made their own magic wands outside Anderson’s. There were many days of running around the house yelling ''Accio! Expelliarmus!'' Or ''Wingardium Leviosa!''
Harry came to the rescue two summers ago when David and his little brother, Jason, were fighting nonstop. I was at a loss, but decided to see if they would connect over Harry. David began reading to Jason and the arguing stopped. David still reads Harry Potter to Jason every now and then, in all the accents and voices. It makes me smile.
And now, the last Harry Potter movie is out. We’re planning a marathon movie day this week to watch them all before going to see the last one on the big screen.
I won’t say goodbye just yet. Reese, 6, is the perfect age to start listening to the series at bedtime.