Wait! Don't go! This isn't a hissy fit like the compost thing yesterday. (Sorry 'bout that. I am myself once more. Not quite cheerfully tending the compost, but no longer swearing at it.)
This post is to confess that I am living in fear. Not because the Secretary of Homeland Security has a tummy ache. Oh no. This is serious. I am treading carefully online, skittishly avoiding certain conversations in person, because:
I am afraid someone will tell me what happens in Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.
Why don't I just get my eager paws on a copy and plow through it? One sleepless night ought to do it, and the tots can make their own dang breakfast, right? Well no, but that's not why. Why is because I promised Mr. Sandy I wouldn't. Years ago, reading Chamber of Secrets, I could tell he'd love these stories, and knew he'd never read them. So I backtracked to Sorcerer's Stone and read a chapter a night aloud to him, and that's how we've read all the subsequent ones. (Evidently I do a good Hagrid voice.)
I was right -- he's hooked. Now not only do I have to wait till he gets home from Far Far Away to get Hallows, but I will then have to read it one chapter a night. That's a long time to avoid spoilers. I'm surprised and pleased at how considerate everyone's been about it, but it can't last, it can't last.
I'm not listening, though. I'm brushing up my Hagrid voice.