Running with Scissors

Sara Peterson-Davis has worked as a newspaper researcher and reporter, as well as a communications director and consultant. She and her husband, Monty Davis, can be found in Liberty, Mo., keeping their two children from running with scissors. Contact Sara

A Magic Happening

by Sara Peterson-Davis

Paint me plaid and call me a muggle. I will never underestimate the power of Harry Potter again.

It was wizards’ power that caught my daughter’s imagination and inspired her to create a magical costume all on her own.

A couple of weeks ago my kids and I joined the throngs of people who stayed up half the night to be one of the first to buy the latest and final Harry Potter adventure, “Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.”

Now you have to understand that I’m not into “happenings.” I have never stood in line for anything other than groceries – not Grateful Dead tickets, not Tickle Me Elmo, not an I-phone. I’m just fine with being the 412,129th person to get something. That way I don’t have to sleep on a sidewalk for three days or talk to anyone who would consider selling an internal organ to move up in line.

But my kids are another story, especially my daughter, Brynne. She likes “happenings.” She loves being a part of the action. Visiting with someone with a spare kidney up for auction would make her day.

That’s how I found myself in a Borders bookstore late in the evening at “Harry Potter’s Grand Ball” standing shoulder to shoulder with several hundred strangers.

Earlier in the day, Brynne had announced that she was going to dress for the ball. That afternoon we heard all sorts of noise emanating from Brynne’s closet. By suppertime, she announced her costume was packed and ready.

Although, I did have a few questions I was distracted with getting everyone out the door for an end-of-season baseball pizza party.

Later when it was time to load up and go to the book party, Brynne had the bag with her costume gripped in her hands as we walked out to the car. I had a notion to ask what she had packed but we needed to get going.

When we arrived at the bookstore, I asked Brynne if she was sure she wanted to wear a costume. Along with not being a “happenings” kind of person, I’m not a costume kind of person either. Wearing anything other than my street clothes in public causes me anxiety.

Ignoring my question and the nervous twinge in my voice, Brynne announced that she would be dressing in the bathrooms.

We walked into the store and were surrounded by a sea of wizards, witches, giants and house elves that looked as if they had visited the wardrobe department at Paramount Studios before coming to the party.

Needless to say, no one else had rummaged through a dress-up chest that afternoon dreaming up a costume.

Brynne marched straight into the bathroom, into the stall and proceeded to dress in a ratty old hand-me-down purple princess gown that was three sizes too large, some purple satin pumps, a pair of baby blue gloves and some costume beads.

“Who are you?” I asked.

“Hermione at the Jewel Ball,” she said with an “of course” tone to her voice.

“Oh!” I replied thinking of the crowd of Potterites on the other side of the door who looked like they’d stepped out of central casting.

We walked out of the bathroom and the first person we ran into was the hyper bookstore associate handing out tickets for the costume contest. Brynne grabbed up the ticket.

While I was proud of my daughter’s ingenuity and single-minded confidence, I knew that her kind of originality isn’t always rewarded in a crowd. I was worried.

While we were waiting for the costume contest, I made the mistake of getting in line for a cup of coffee. Truth be told, I will stand in line for coffee.

While I was standing there, the costume contest started. By the time I got through the crowd and over to the contest, Brynne’s part was over.

“How did it go?” I asked tentatively.

“Just great!” Brynne beamed. “We need to stay here. I think they’re going to call me back.”

Seeing that they’d moved on to the adult contestants, I had my doubts.

“Honey,” I started ready to deliver some kind of “let-her-down-easy” speech when a middle-aged witch interrupted me.

“There you are!” she said to Brynne. “You received the most applause in your group. So here’s your prize and you will be sixth in line to get your book.”

The witch handed Brynne a small goodie bag filled with Harry Potter kitsch and a $10 gift certificate. Then she placed a bejeweled plastic crown on Brynne’s head.

Brynne graciously accepted the congratulations from people around us, looking pleased that it had all turned out just the way she’d planned.

Now, that’s some kind of magic.

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