Keep the wrapping paper

A few nights ago I began somewhat reluctantly reading "Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone" to the boys who had insisted upon it (more on that another time).

Early on there is a description of Harry's spoiled cousin Dudley's birthday party. Dudley counts his gifts and then whines that he only received thirty-six presents, two less than the previous year. His parents quickly correct that by offering more and Dudley ends up the recipient of a racing bike, a computer, a VCR, sixteen computer games, a remote control airplane, and a gold watch.

I expected a reaction from the boys, but they seemed unfazed.

The next night I read them a scene where Harry realizes he is about to turn eleven:

Of course, his birthdays were never exactly fun--last year, the Dursleys had given him a coat hangar and a pair of Uncle Vernon's old socks. Still, you weren't eleven every day.

Once again, no reaction.

I was sure they mustn't have heard what I'd read, so I asked them about it. "Did you hear that?" I asked. "Remember when Dudley got thirty-nine presents? Do you remember what he got?" They demonstrated that they recalled almost everything.

"And what did Harry get?" They answered correctly.

"So what did you think of that?"

"Well," said Andrew, barely pausing to consider it, "I wouldn't care about the old socks, but I'd like the coat hangar. I could use it to make a jet fighter, or I could make a zip line for Max Steele. Or...I could get a cardboard box and use the hangar and make a robot; I could use the socks for feet..." I finally had to cut him off or he'd be inventing still.

I told Andrew I was impressed. I told all of them I was proud of how unselfish they are...but I'd wager they are puzzled by my compliments.