Confession: My daughter is a Potterhead [defined by Urban Dictionary as “an extreme version of a fan of the Harry Potter books”].

True confession: I’ve read only the first Harry Potter book, and seen the movies only spottily.
For this alone, my Potterhead daughter is rather ashamed of me.

But, while I thoroughly enjoyed Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone as well as the movie slices I’ve seen, and while I’ve got the utmost respect for JK Rowling as a writer and creative genius, and while I’d love to visit The Wizarding World of Harry Potter at Universal Orlando, fantasy fiction isn’t really my deal.

I’m simply not called to it the way I am some other genres. It’s just not my jam.

So I’m content letting the boy with the lightning-shaped scar be all hers. I’m happy to indulge her fangirl fetishes … her unanswered prayers for a letter from Hogwarts [delivered via owl, naturally], her love of Hermione Granger, Luna Lovegood and Bellatrix Lestrange, her sniggering about Snape’s uncrackable countenance, her grief over Dobby the house elf.

Oh – and of course, her relentless ridicule of Voldemort’s serpentine scantiness of snout. [Oh, yes, she found the above meme hilarious.]

And one day, I’ll be just as giddy as a newly-sorted Gryffindor to follow her all around the aforementioned theme park, and let her show me all the pleasures, great and small, of Potterhead-dom.

Harry’s her world. And I’m happy being the proud Muggle mama of a Potterhead girl.

image via buzzfeed.