Mr7 has long been a man of passion. When he was two and discovered The Wiggles, it was Hot Potato city round these parts. He insisted on wearing yellow and would answer to nothing but “Sam”.
The Wiggles were replaced by Ben 10. Ben 10 was sideswiped by Star Wars. Star Wars was blindsided by Zac Power and Captain Underpants. And now we have reached the zenith of his affections. If he was stuck on those other loves, he is glued to Harry Potter.
When he was into Ben 10, he wore a big watch. When he was into Star Wars, he tied a baby wrap around his neck and became Luke Skywalker. With Zac Power he made spy cards. As Harry, he draws a zigzag scar on his forehead. With texta. He walks the walk, does our Mr7.
He also talks the talk. Nothing but the talk. Today, the Fibro is full of shouts of “Expelliamus!” “Wingardium Leviosa!” “Accio Nimbus2000!” Etcetera. He ambushes me with questions about whether Harry’s wand would be longer than his arm or shorter. He wants to know about the Tri-Wizards tournament and will tell me, in exquisite detail, about how he’d go about getting past a Hungarian Hornback (or whatever type of dragon it was that Harry defeated). He is stymied by the fact that I will not let him read past book three. The themes get too dark. Harry gets too damn grumpy.
Last night, as he was leaping about the back deck trying to levitate his brother with a coathanger, I turned to The Builder.
“Do you reckon he’s like this at school? Talking about nothing but Harry Potter.”
No pause. “Yep,” he answered.
“He does tend to get stuck on one thing. Would you call him obsessive?”
He paused. “Nope. I’d call him male.”
Do you have boys? Are they serial stickers as well? Are girls the same?