Last night my oldest son and I were looking in Target for a strobe light for my youngest daughter's birthday fete coming up in two weeks. Problems began when I couldn't locate a disco ball that was advertised online as being available in the store.

Disappointed and yet distracted among all of the delicious things I don't need to own, cute and kitschy home apparel and egg servers, there was no disco ball to be found. I turned to my son and told him that we might have to go to "Wal-Mart" to find said lighting of small girl karaoke dance happiness.

My son watched as a Target employee walked past. He mock gasped.

"You just said that which must not be named in a Target! And in front of an employee! Have you no shame?" He deadpanned. "You said.... Waldemoort."

Comedian.

"Speaking of Harry, Potter," he continued, "how many books are we going to pre-order? I can't wait to read it, and the other kids read so slowly." I assured him we'd really only need one book, and there shouldn't be any issues with him being the first to pull an all-nighter discovering what would happen to Harry.

Today I ran to Wal... err... that which must not be named in continued search of said disco ball. I know for a fact the super center used to carry them. I grabbed my home schooler after we completed an exciting discussion of line rays and segments, and we drove off towards the store, with me recounting what we needed to locate. I told my 10 year old about "Waldemoort" and she laughed. "Well, sure, "she said, not missing a beat. "You never mention 'Wal-'... that which must not be named when you're around Harry Target."

Harry Target indeed. "Speaking of Harry Potter, "said my daughter, "Are we going to fight over who gets to read the book first? I know my older brother is going to hog the book. How many copies are we going to get?"

On the way home, I picked up some dinner at the golden arches of high-fat and sodium deliciousness. My younger son, being a pre-teen and perpetually hungry, yelled, "Woohoo! McDonagalls!" The young wizardmade his burger disappear. It was magic.

My husband then asked how many copies of the last book we planned to pre-order. I recounted how the oldest would devour the book in a day, and then how our daughter could probably have it completed within a few... and then there was the pre-teen... I glanced over atmy spouseand noticed him making a pouty lip. "But what about me? I want to read the book too." Then, changing from pouty to obsessed faster than Texas Instruments stocks could drop,he developed a crazed look in his eye. "We need to order at least two books... at least two."SuddenlyI saw himmentally hugging the seventh bookin a small, dark corner of the room mouthing, "Preciousssssss".

Shaking off that visual, my burgered-out pre-teen yelled, "Pull my finger!" followed by a french-fry-wand-wave and the clarion call of " Accio Fartsium!" and then, "Mom. We need at least two copies, especially if dad is going to hog one. Maybe we need three copies!"

Three copies of the same book? This is insane! Is everyone in my household fixated on and waiting impatiently for the latest version of JK Rowling's novel to be released? This immediate 'need to know what is going to happen in the final book' was becoming both expensive and redundant.

Just a couple of minutes ago, my 5 year old told me she was writing a story. I asked her if it was about Harry Potter, and she told me no. "It's a perfect story", she said matter-of-fact. "It's about a rabbit named Fifi who wants to be a Valentine's rabbit. So instead of eggs, she's going to lay Valentine's chocolates."

I see.