I just had this moment last night sitting in line, surrounded by all of these kids in costume, with their pipe cleaner glasses, eye liner scars, and homemade darkmarks, rereading the book for the millionth time, and I felt so immensely lucky to have been a part of this generation. To have grown up with Harry, to have been to the book releases, and the midnight premieres. To be a part of this era. I’m so thankful for it.
Once a little boy sent me a charming card with a little drawing on it. I loved it. I answer all my children’s letters—sometimes very hastily—but this one I lingered over. I sent him a card and I drew a picture of a Wild Thing on it. I wrote, “Dear Jim: I loved your card.”
Then I got a letter back from his mother and she said, “Jim loved your card so much he ate it.”
That to me was one of the highest compliments I’ve ever received. He didn’t care that it was an original Maurice Sendak drawing or anything. He saw it, he loved it, he ate it.