Between the fifth Harry Potter book and the sixth Harry Potter book, something pretty cool happened in my house. Munchkin #1, age 9, became a reader. Not just reading, as in she could pick up a paper and read most of the words on it... she started READING, as in devouring books with her eyes. We raced to see who could finish the most recent Harry Potter first. She won.
It's cool, yet, I'm a little bit sad.
Last night we started another book together. I was reading it aloud to both the girls. I went to bed with this romantic little picture of the three of us, reading a few chapters together each evening before we went to sleep.
Tonight I got home from work, however, to hear, "Mom, I finished the book!"
"What? You finished it?"
"Yep."
"All of it?"
"Yep."
"You mean, you know how the story ends?"
She does... and even though I'm thrilled about it, there's a little part of me that is thinking -- this is what it feels like when they just don't need you anymore.
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