A testament to my luxuriously long and innocent childhood: after reading Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone I wished and hoped and dreamed for weeks that my owl would come. You know, on the off chance JK was really trying to expose the children of the world to the reality of a magical wizarding world that adults were oblivious to. I
When my owl didn't arrive, I actually signed up for 'Hogwarts classes' online, and submitted 'homework' like spells and potions I had made up to get 'House points.' (The only thing that is freakier than that is the impossibly slow dial up Internet I was doing this stuff on.)
So it comes as no surprise that I teared up a little when we found Leadenhall Market (or Diagon Alley in the Sorcerer's Stone movie) one sunny London morning in September.
Mike picked up a bit of rubbish off the ground and fashioned me a wand, and made me pose like a wizard for photos. I felt equal parts ridiculous to be posing like that in public, elated to be standing in Diagon Alley, and pretty darn lucky to have a guy that makes me wizard wands from bits of garbage.
A guy who has agreed that the next time we go to London we can go here.
(No promises I won't full out ugly cry when we finally do.)