blogs

Eleven years ago, "Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone" was published in the United States. Last week, my household started reading the series as a family. My husband has already read the series and seen most of the movies, but the children and I have not. I waited until my youngest was close in age to Harry, as recommended by J.K. Rowling, the series' author.

Why wait? I have this thing about books and "seasons." I believe that if it's not the right season to read a book, it won't hit you in the right place, and the enjoyment you might have gotten from it is lost. Then later, when you are ready, you've already "read" the book and/or seen the movie, so why bother? It was also nice to have something we were waiting for -- a milestone in the future the kids knew we would reach. 

My kids have of course heard about the series, seen the costumes on Halloween and several over-the-top scary movie previews. But there's something magical about watching the story unfold in our living room. The kids are old enough to know how Harry feels; as children of divorce, they know what it's like to have adults decide the course of your life and to have to just go along with it. Perhaps every child longs for that moment when you can leave behind the people who don't appreciate you and and be valued by people who do. In a world where tweens often say, "Whatever, Mom," it's a gift to hear, "Just one more chapter, Mama!" I'm glad there are seven books, because sharing this series is so delicious, I don't want it to end.