Dorian will be eight this Monday. Today I went to the town center in Reading in search of an appropriate present for him. Without much thought, I went to a bookstore. As he is way ahead of his peers in reading, I thought of getting him a “grownup” book, but I ultimately went to the children’s section instead. Once I spotted Anne Frank’s diary there, no other book appeared to carry the same weight, to be grownup enough for my boy. Anne was only five years older than Dorian when she started writing. God only knows when he will actually start reading the book, but I will leave that decision to him.