Two weeks ago Lynnette suggested that Madison read the first book in the Harry Potter series, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone. It was slow going initially but Madison claims she got into the book at “about chapter three because the letters from no one were pretty exciting”. I don’t know if that’s chronologically correct. But she’s reading and she’s enjoying it.
During the first week she had to be told to invest 20 minutes a night reading. She always fussed at the beginning of the reading sessions, but was fully engrossed by the end of them. One weekend night Lynnette told Mad she had to read until chapter 11. I cruised in her room with her for a while, reading on my phone to keep her company. Eventually, the words on my phone got blurry. “Are you almost done?” I asked. “No,” she said. “Where are you?” I asked. “Chapter 11,” she said. “But I thought mom said you only had to read until chapter 11?” I said. “I know, but I can’t put it down,” she replied. This “can’t put it down” is what Lynnette promised Madison about the book before she started reading. Madison found this statement to be true.
last week as Madison hit the novel’s climax and resolution, she was so rapt by the story that she sat in her room – past her bedtime – and read by table light. On one of these school nights I saw her light on and popped into her room. “It’s 30 minutes past your bed time. What are you doing?” I said. “I’m reading!” she whisper-yelled. “You need to go to bed,” I said. “I can’t put it down, like mom said,” she said. Lynnette said that Mad had no trouble getting up the following morning. Hmmm…
Well, Mad’s Harry Potter’s got her under its spell now. We told Madison that if she finished the book, we could watch the movie version of the first book together. She’s watched it three times since Friday. She carries around the cleaner for her recorder and waves it around like a wand. “Madison, is that your recorder cleaner?” Lynnette asked this afternoon. “Yes,” Madison said. “Gross!” Lynnette said. “What, I haven’t used it in a long time,” Madison defended. “Do you mean to tell me you haven’t cleaned your recorder?” I asked. There was a long silence. “Yes,” Madison said, but not as confidently as before. She’s also taken to wearing the twins’ old play mat as her invisibility cloak. “How does it work?” I asked her. She slipped it over her head. High comedy. “If I can’t see you, you can’t see me!” she shouted gleefully from beneath the play mat. Man. She’s suspending the hell out of that disbelief. But she’s reading and she’s enjoying it, so yes, I pretend to not see her even when she’s full-on clowning like this, two feet from my face.