Cooter closed the last page of his book and sighed.
“If my feet were hairy, I could have been a Hobbit.”
Oh my land, that boy. Only 8 years old and the things that come out of his mouth never fail to surprise me. And have me bursting out with laughter.
He continued, “I have really great clothes too.”
“Wait. What? Hobbits have really great clothes?!”
With a serious look on his face, he nodded, “Yes’m. They really do.”
Then he added, “‘Course I’d need a tiny little knife too, to be a Hobbit.”
Before I could say anything, his sister, our Princess, spoke up, “Nooooo. No.” She shook her head and waved her hands. “Let’s just leave that in the idea box. No need to take it out of there at all.” She looked at me, and mouthed, “No sharp knives.”
Cooter vehemently spouted, “I didn’t say sharp. I said ‘tiny, little.’ I need one to be a Hobbit.”
“Well, that and hairy feet, right?” I reminded him.
“Yesssss,” he sighed again.
Life is hard, y’all.
My little guy wanted to read “The Hobbit,” so we found a version that suited him perfectly. He loved it all, motivated as well by the promise that he could watch the animated version once he finished reading it. He had been quite enthusiastic until he got close to the end, when he said, “This is NOT a good book.”
“Wait a minute, I thought you loved it.”
He then shared about the demise of one of his favorite characters (but this is a no-spoiler kind of blog, so that’s all I’m saying about THAT), and it was obvious that he was trying not to cry.
I love books. Have I mentioned that before?
And I love my children.
And I love that my children love books.
Tonight may you all dream the big dreams–and always be yourself. Unless you can be a Hobbit, then ALWAYS be a Hobbit. Because hairy feet are apparently in, and they have really cool clothes. Or so I’m told. #BilboWannabeOverHere
Love to all.