Ten minutes ago, my 12 year old was in tears and I have never been so pleased.
Big, gushing tears from both corners of her gigantic eyes...red nose...furrowed brow...it was beautiful.
You see, she just finished reading The Hobbit, and so she is sad...sad at the experience of it being over, of being kicked out of that world, and so very sad at how it ended.
So as I hugged her tight and swayed back and forth with her in the middle of the kitchen, I sniffled with her (we both cry when the other one does), and I told her how happy I was that she had been so deeply touched by the written word. And that this...THIS is why people read. THIS is why writers write.
Just a couple hours into the school day, and the day could end right here and now. It would be a completely productive day.
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