Big Kid started the Harry Potter series at the beginning of summer. Long after I had told him to get in bed last night, allowing 10 minutes for reading before sleep, he appeared in my doorway with a sad, sweet little smile.
"What are you doing, bud?" I asked.
"Did you finish your book already?" Mr. Ashley guessed. Big Kid nodded, still smiling.
"You finished the last book?? Was it good?" He nodded again, smiling big but with watery eyes.
"What is wrong?" Mr. Ashley asked, confused at the mixed up emotions.
"Are you sad because it's over?" I knew because I do this too, with shorter books than the Harry Potter series. I mourn the loss of imaginary characters and their temporary involvement with my life.
He nodded again. "It was just so good. It went by so quickly and now I'm done with Harry and his friends forever..." his voice cracked and his face creased again as he finished explaining, his little shoulders slumped. I promised we'd take him to the book store for Narnia or Lord of the Rings or another series the very next day. He went to bed happy about his accomplishment and sad that he had accomplished it.
I love that boy of mine! (Both boys, of course, but this post is only about the one.) He is my mini-me.
We watched Up last night for the 50th time and both cried...again. Multiple times throughout the movie. He's decided to be Mr. Frederickson for Halloween and I haven't been this excited about a Halloween costume since they've been able to choose their own.
(little kid is going to be a ninja...sigh).