Nine

When you are nine you create an old-time school house for your sisters and teach them Spanish and keep even the two year old entertained for hours.

When you are nine you are pushing the boundaries, working things out, trying things on.

When you are nine, you are frustrated and annoyed by little sisters, the petty injustices of family life and your parents general dim wittedness.  But you still really want kisses and cuddles.

When you are nine you think twice about getting dressed up for the school's 'Wizard of Oz' movie night, but you still do.

When you are nine you are beginning to discover the real world, both the good ('Understood Betsy', Australian music) and the bad (who is Joseph Kony? what is rape?).

When you are nine you have perfected the eye roll, the look of dismissal, the sarcastic retort unfortunately learned at your mother's breast and she remembers those parenting books that said never to be sarcastic to kids and wishes she had heeded them.

When you are nine, internal conviction is stronger than external logic.

When you are nine you are torn between the desire for independence and the convenience of having someone else do things for you.

When you are nine you are skeptical about the existence of the Easter bunny because it just doesn't seem very likely to you that a bunny would leave you chocolate but you also can't figure out where the chocolate comes from because you know your parents wouldn't let you have that much.

Ah, my darling Ruby, it promises to be an interesting year.  Happy birthday sweetheart.