This post brought to you by the letter…

Ty doesn’t seem to like things that start with the letter ‘D’.

Dogs.
Dragons.
Most desserts.

And David Bowie.

I mean weird right?

And even though Harry Potter arguably starts with an ‘H’, he didn’t think he would be a fan of that either. Because mostly he just doesn’t love the fantastical. But he does love me, and I love the fantastical, so I suppose by some sort of transitive property he loves it too. Subconsciously.

Regardless.

Apparently I use too many HP references in my life, and Ty decided that he needed to figure out what all this nonsense is about. So we have been slowly but surely making our way through the movies (movies first… so if he gives up before he gets to the books he’ll at least have the gist of it). Slowly. But as we were talking about it, Ty asked what house he would be in.

And that’s when I heard it. That innocent question might not have signaled anything to you. But to me, it meant curiosity. It meant… interest.

So of course I told him that, rather serendipitously, JK Rowling has a whole website about her books. And that if we went on it would sort him into his house.

Tyler. Got on. Pottermore. Clearly one of the greatest achievements of my married life.

Only once. And I suppose it doesn’t really count because he hasn’t been back. But it did happen. And everyone knows that Harry Potter is like a gateway fandom to all the other worlds of fantasy. So maybe one day he’ll be making me watch LOTR or Star Wars.

It’s not impossible after all. Just improbable. And that’s what I’m all about.

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