I find myself wishing that the boy was just a year or so older, so that we could creep into his room around ten o’clock on Friday night, wake him up, and whisper to him that we were going out for a midnight adventure to the bookstore. This is the last Potter book, and I’ve never attended a midnight launch party for various reasons. I’m a bit wistful; this particular event will never happen again. Liam would love this sort of thing, with people in costume, and music, and really just his favourite bookstore at midnight would be enough to be the coolest thing ever for him.

I would even let him bring his broom, to which he can say “Up!”. He could meet Fearsclave, and Cymry, and Meallanmouse, and whoever else will be there of our acquaintance. His sleep schedule would be off for a couple of days, but I think it would have been worth it. But he is not a couple of years older, and so, alas, it will not happen. And I’m more wistful on his account than my own. (Because let’s be realistic, the reason I’ve never gone to a midnight launch is because I’m paralyzingly shy, as well as mildly enochlophobic and agoraphobic [in the true sense of the word].)

Ah, well. We will go out to our local bookstore together on Saturday morning and get a copy of book seven. I intend to drop off a treat or something for the employees on shift, too, probably mini cinnamon rolls from the Saint-Cinnamon counter or a bag of Ghirardelli chocolate. Their day is going to be mildly insane, and I so appreciate them; they’re always cheerful and smiling and they never brush me off or pressure me when we browse. And having worked events in bookstores I know that things can start to grate, and one feels as if one has become somewhat invisible or non-human to the attendees. So kudos and thanks in advance to all bookshop employees; hang in there Friday night and over the weekend. You are all stars.