The Dream Crusher

As I type this my youngest is hiding out in her back bedroom, having made only one appearance in the last 30 minutes, during which she marched by with head held high as her Gryffindor cloak billowed behind her. Not unnoticed was the Gryffindor sweatshirt worn beneath the cloak, warn like a black armband of solidarity mourning the loss of a well pursued dream.  On the floor of her bedroom, opened to beloved tear stained photos of Emma Watson as Hermione, is her cherished Harry Potter Behind the Scenes Hardback Collectors Edition she purchased with her own hard earned money.  Typically around here I am the Harry to her Hermione.  Right now I am more like despised Professor Snape (she is only in book 5 so his true nature has yet to be revealed to her.) I earned this most dramatic, yet sincere performance this afternoon, when I denied her the right to attend Universal Studio's Harry Potter's World with a friend.  Call me...The Dream Crusher.