Perhaps some of you have been following our Harry Potter adventures this summer. Cate, who declared at the beginning of the summer that she was done with the children's section of the library and ready for young adult books, started reading the Harry Potter series. The books are much beloved at our house. Brian and I read the first three aloud when were were pregnant with Frances. I stood in line for Goblet of Fire, willing Frances not to be born before I got my copy. I was reading Goblet of Fire when I went into labor. I eventually read them all aloud to her and we celebrated her 11th birthday by going to see the midnight showing of the last film (her reward for finishing all the books her own--you have to read the book before you see the movie at our house). We love these books and are happy to welcome Cate into the club.
Cate loves these books. She's reading them obsessively. I'll read a chapter to her and then she'll stay awake FOR HOURS and read 8 or 10 or 12 chapters to herself. Which brings us to last night when I found her curled up beneath her covers at 12:30am near the end of Goblet of Fire. "Cate, what are you doing?" I asked. She turned slowly to me, with the most wide-eyed expression, and said, "It's too much. It's just too much, Mommy." Cedric had been killed; Voldermort had returned; and Cate was overwhelmed.
We went to the kitchen for warm milk, she asked if anything important happened in the last chapters, I told her she didn't have to finish it if she didn't want to, and then I put her back to bed. When I went to wake her up this morning, she was curled around the book. She woke up long enough to tell me she finished it and that she was exhausted.
She may not survive Order of the Phoenix. I'm torn about whether or not I should let her read it.
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