Abacadab!

"Look Mummy! I Harry Potter! Where 'tick?"

Leo's found a pointy hat, Leo's found some glasses... my, Leo is Harry Potter! And he knows it!
He's sat with us through a two-week marathon, a little bit of magic every night. Take two grown ups engrossed in teenage telly and mix in one little tired tearful boy at the top of the stairs calling out to Mummy, "Leo watchin teeeeveeee Mummy! I watchin teeeeveee?" Nobody gets in between my and my teenage fun, so there he is, snuggled up to me and joining us right in the first proper dark and scary bit. "I don't liiiike it," he wimpers, "Mummy I don't liiiike it!"
"Me neither," I lie and refuse to bring him back to bed, just because that's a half hour exercise at this time of day and, I repeat, nothing gets in between me and Harry Potter.
Enter Professor Dumbledore to save the day, and the night: "Leo, look! He looks just like Father Christmas!" Leo is very very very fond of Favver Friffmiff. Leo, easily impressed and very excited now: "Mummy! I think is Favver Friffmiff! Look! Favver Friffmiff!"

So, a few days, a hat and some glasses later, we find him a chopstick (which seems a remotely better choice than the pointed barbeqeue skewer he is after), make him a very happy Mr. Potter and get abacadab'ed left right and center. Abacadab! I get poked in the behind. Abacadab! I get poked in the tummy! Abacadab! Leo is crying because his magic 'tick mysteriously disappeared.

"ABACADAB!"

Abacadab! Hat and glasses mysteriously disappear off Leo and reappear on Tara. Bless... Tara knows nothing of Harry P, other than that it is scary and she will not be allowed to watch it until she is at least 18. Leo, meanwhile, secures another hat, another 'tick and keeps poking at everything that presents itself.

Abacadab! Off to bed... part eight out the way and both Leo and I are serously sleep deprived.

"Mummy I'm Harry Potter now."

(Ah the fun that can be had with teenage entertainment! Twilight next.*)

* NEVER!