Turning Ten

Daniel and I were driving to Rockford to pick up a bunch of balloons for his birthday.  He seemed more distracted than usual and kept muttering to himself as we went along.

 ”How does it feel to be ten?” I asked.

“I’m not nine yet,” he told me.  “I was born at night, so I’m still nine until tonight.”  That’s technically true.  I asked if he wanted to hold up opening his presents until 10:38 at night.  He shook his head; after dinner would be close enough.

“Do you feel any different than being nine?” I asked.

“Well, my voice hasn’t changed yet,” he announced with a sigh.  Daniel yawned.  “And I’m more tired than when I was nine,” he said.  I nodded.  I’ve noticed you get more and more weary as you get older; weight of the world and all that.  “I’m hungrier now,” he said.  “I’m going to need lunch.  And cake.”  Well, that could be arranged. 

He thought for a bit.  “I still like Hot Wheels,” he decided.  “But now I’ll like them just because of all the fond memories I had playing with them when I was nine.”