My oldest daughter, at the ripe old age of six, has recently finished reading Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone (apologies to purists who know it should be "Philosopher's Stone").
Six.
My memory is a bit fuzzy, but I'm pretty sure I didn't read anything of novel length until I was nine or ten.
She wanted to watch the (godawful) movie of Sorcerer's Stone, but not until she'd finished the book. Once she sat down and watched it, she was able to talk about differences between the movie and the book.
At six, I would have had a hard time distinguishing between cinematic and comic book versions of Star Wars.
Okay, fine. The kid is smarter than me. It's not like I haven't already admitted that. And she loves to read, which is great. She sometimes sneaks extra reading in during schooltime, and after she's supposed to be sleeping at night.
Now, I did the same thing, but not until I was considerably older. I'm not sure about her mom. She is a bookworm too, though, so she was probably reading Jane Austen when I was reading The Mouse and the Motorcycle.
So we have a little Hermione in the family (though not an insufferable know-it-all, thank god). Now if we can manage to keep the younger one from going all Slytherin on us, we'll be set.
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