“My childhood is over.” Alex flopped down on the sofa and sighed dejectedly, the back of his right hand resting on his forehead. He propped up his feet on the arm of the couch because he was too tall to lie down flat.
“I don’t think so. You’re a senior in high school and you can’t legally drink or vote. I would say that puts you in your late childhood.”
“None of that matters. I saw the last Harry Potter movie this morning. Throughout my entire childhood, I looked forward to reading the next Harry Potter book and seeing the next movie. Now it’s over. My childhood is done.”
“Isn’t that a little bit dramatic?”
“There’s nothing to look forward to now!” Even with his deep voice, he sounded like a whiny eight year old.
“OK, now you’re being the king of drama.”
He propped himself on one elbow and looked at me. “You haven’t seen the movie yet, have you?”
“No. Dad and I are going this afternoon. We want to watch part 1 again before we go.”
“I bet you understand after you see it,” my child predicted.
He was right. I absolutely understood what he meant as I left the theater later that day.
“Chris, I think my childhood is over.”
My husband kindly refrained from making the obvious comment. “I know what you mean,” he answered. “We just saw the last Harry Potter movie. It was the end of an era.”
“That’s exactly it. It's sad,” I replied. “Maybe J.K. Rowling will write something else for us now.”
“We can hope,” he said with a smile. “Or maybe Vicki Scullion will write something for us.”
"I can't wait to read it!"
"Me, too," I muttered under my breath. "I'll get right on that, then, shall I?"
"You go, girl."