Every night, almost without fail, I pile into Will’s bed to read Harry Potter.
August 24th, 2012 is when we started. Every night they are at my house, we read.
Liv has crashed in for some of the highlights – the first page, the introduction of Delores Umbridge, Dumbledore’s death; but it’s usually Will and me. Me and Will.
And I’ll read. I’ve been know to read for over an hour. He’ll raise his hand when he has a question – “what does condescending mean,” or “Who is Cattermole?”
When we’re done, without fail, he’ll ask “how many pages did we read?”
And I answer. 2. 12. 28.
So far, we’ve read about 3800 pages. 187 chapters.
Every time we finish a chapter, he studies the illustration on the next chapter . . . there are these little drawings above the chapter names . . . We spend a few minutes, every time, talking about that drawing, and what we think it means, about what’s coming, about what’s next . . .
The thing is, the end is in sight. Harry and Hermione are in the tent. We only have about 10 chapters left.
Will’s a different little guy. When I was his age, I was all about baseball and kickball and football and hunting and fishing and being outside. He isn’t. I mean, he goes fishing with me, or hunting, but he’s way more into electronics and gadgets. How things work and why. So sometimes he comes to my world and sometimes I go to his.
I’ll fumble my way through a minecraft session, he’ll play with the fishfinder on the boat.
But, for that brief period every night, no matter how our days went, our world’s intersect . . . our interests blend . . . over magic and wizards and heroes and villains . . .
And, each night, at the very end, he’ll look at me, with those tired brown eyes – “Can I roll over on you daddy?”
I lie there on my back, and he crawls up on me, and nuzzles his head against my neck.
And we lay there, and listen to each other breath, and he giggles at my heartbeat.
“I love you daddy . . . you’re my best buddy.”
And I lie there, my arms wrapped tight around my son, my boy, and I think about what it means, about what’s coming, about what’s next . . . and I reply “I love you too buddy . . . I love you too”