I’ve mentioned that I took Madame Bovary camping. While my children played in the cool water of Lake Superior, I relaxed in a beach chair and read.
One evening I continued reading while my crew prepared that night’s s’more fire.
“Mom? Are you going to keep reading? Don’t you want s’mores?”
“Yes, I’ll eat s’mores. I’m just waiting for this character to die.”
“Die?” “Who’s dying?” “How are they going to die?”
I gave a “cleaned-up” version of the plot, went back to reading, and was amused every time one of my children asked, “Is she dead yet?”
I finished Madame Bovary the next morning as the sunshine poured through the windows of our rustic cabin and my exhausted family continued sleeping. Upon waking, the first thing they wanted to know was, “Is she dead?”
“Yep. and her husband died too.”