Charlotte tells Wilbur a story about her cousin who trapped a fish in her web. Then she tells him a story about her cousin who was a balloonist. Finally, Charlotte sings Wilbur a lullaby.
That pretty much describes my son's bedtime ritual. A couple of books, a lullaby, some prayers. Recently, I've been reading him I Love You, Stinky Face. Tonight, however, we embarked upon Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. I thought my son would last about two sentences. He listened for close to 25 minutes. Almost the entire first chapter.
He really got into it. Of course, it helped that I did my best Richard Harris and Maggie Smith impersonations. I'm not sure if I'll be able to keep it up. My Alan Rickman is a little rusty, and I'm not sure if I'll be able to pull off Emma Watson. But I will persevere as long as my son is interested.
I'm looking forward to rediscovering the Harry Potter books. It's been a long time since I visited Hogwarts. For instance, I completely forgot that the first chapter of the first book is almost entirely focused on Mr. Dursley, and the writing itself obviously targets a much younger audience than the later books in the series.
I hope my son wants to return to Privet Drive tomorrow night. Bedtime was great this evening. Plus, it's a lot more interesting than Stinky Face.
And Saint Marty has always wanted to be a Gryffindor.
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