so my brother turned eleven yesterday, and as every harry potter reader knows, eleven is a big birthday. bigger than your first double digit age, bigger than your first year as a teen, bigger even than your first year as an adult. eleven is when you find out where you stand: are you a wizard or a muggle?
as i've already mentioned on here, i got him an owl (stuffed of course) and an acceptance letter and had my sister leave them near his bed as he slept so he'd wake up to them. i also got both of my brothers wands. later in the day, as they were jumping around the living room wizard dueling in that way that only someone who has given up all thoughts of dignity and self-consciousness to be a real, nerdy fangirl (or boy i guess) can do, he kept telling his brother, "you know none of your spells can ever work because you're a muggle." his brother kept reminding him that he, too, lacked any real, magical powers, but it never seemed to stick with him. i'm not sure how much of that was because of birthday excitement and how much was due to the fact that when my brother picked up his wand my dad swore that his stuffed owl blinked (and my brother somehow believed him?) but it made me happy to see that imagination and a belief in magic were not something they were growing out of. i hope they never do.
this year i also started taking the birthday boy out for breakfast. if you grew up with siblings that were always having to do everything together, you may remember how cool it was to be able to go out by yourself. anyway, we go to ihop and he orders an orange juice. when he gets it, he takes a sip and says, "is this fresh squeezed? it tastes like it came out of a carton."
he was also telling me about all of the things that he could do now that he was eleven. apparently he was talking to my dad about the same thing earlier that morning, to which my dad replied that eleven year olds have to start cleaning and he made him clean his room. as he was listing off things, he took a sip of water and said, "their water tastes like paper cups. now that i'm eleven, i can criticize things." i gave him a look and asked when he ever didn't criticize things. "i never criticized things before i was a perfectionist," he said matter-of-factly. "and anyway, i just said that now i'm allowed to criticize, not that i never did before."
so eleven: the year of magic, cleaning, and criticism.
on the agenda today is to clean my apartment before my student gets here (did i mention that i restarted tutoring? i can't remember.), do a little schoolwork, and then bake a butterbeer cake for tomorrow. (i had class last night and didn't want to bake a cake for a day that i wouldn't be able to eat it.)
if you want to do something to celebrate this most magical of birthday years, you can buy my book. i know, i know. do i have no shame? using my youngest brother's special day for my own selfish promotion? obviously not.
*Do You Believe in Magic - The Lovin' Spoonfuls
as i've already mentioned on here, i got him an owl (stuffed of course) and an acceptance letter and had my sister leave them near his bed as he slept so he'd wake up to them. i also got both of my brothers wands. later in the day, as they were jumping around the living room wizard dueling in that way that only someone who has given up all thoughts of dignity and self-consciousness to be a real, nerdy fangirl (or boy i guess) can do, he kept telling his brother, "you know none of your spells can ever work because you're a muggle." his brother kept reminding him that he, too, lacked any real, magical powers, but it never seemed to stick with him. i'm not sure how much of that was because of birthday excitement and how much was due to the fact that when my brother picked up his wand my dad swore that his stuffed owl blinked (and my brother somehow believed him?) but it made me happy to see that imagination and a belief in magic were not something they were growing out of. i hope they never do.
this year i also started taking the birthday boy out for breakfast. if you grew up with siblings that were always having to do everything together, you may remember how cool it was to be able to go out by yourself. anyway, we go to ihop and he orders an orange juice. when he gets it, he takes a sip and says, "is this fresh squeezed? it tastes like it came out of a carton."
he was also telling me about all of the things that he could do now that he was eleven. apparently he was talking to my dad about the same thing earlier that morning, to which my dad replied that eleven year olds have to start cleaning and he made him clean his room. as he was listing off things, he took a sip of water and said, "their water tastes like paper cups. now that i'm eleven, i can criticize things." i gave him a look and asked when he ever didn't criticize things. "i never criticized things before i was a perfectionist," he said matter-of-factly. "and anyway, i just said that now i'm allowed to criticize, not that i never did before."
so eleven: the year of magic, cleaning, and criticism.
on the agenda today is to clean my apartment before my student gets here (did i mention that i restarted tutoring? i can't remember.), do a little schoolwork, and then bake a butterbeer cake for tomorrow. (i had class last night and didn't want to bake a cake for a day that i wouldn't be able to eat it.)
if you want to do something to celebrate this most magical of birthday years, you can buy my book. i know, i know. do i have no shame? using my youngest brother's special day for my own selfish promotion? obviously not.
*Do You Believe in Magic - The Lovin' Spoonfuls
Anytime i hear do you believe in magic i think of that show...state of grace??or whatever it was called. i loved that show. i wonder if they have it on netflix.
ReplyDeletei have a lot of posts i need to comment on :/
yes, that it was called. i loved it, too. and, no, it wasn't on netflix last time i checked. also, there are a million posts you haven't commented on.
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