Nine is before cell phones but after Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. Nine is in the sweet spot of Disney made-for-tv movies.

Nine is the perfect bridge between thirteen and three. The 13-year-old wants nothing to do with me and the 3-year-old wants everything to do with me. You’re conveniently placed right in the middle of needing not too much or too little of me.

Sometimes nine gets lost in the shuffle, but I don’t want you to dwell on that. I see you, I promise that I always will. I know what makes you laugh and I’ll never forget you crying during Avengers: End Game. I’ll remember you putting on a brave face when you fell on the soccer field. Nine is a generous cocktail of tough, vulnerable, confident and sensitive.

I cherish nine because even though you’re heavy, you still ask to sit on my lap. I’ll bear your weight for as long as you’ll ask me to.

Nine is fantastic because you dance like nobody’s watching in the kitchen with me and sing like an American Idol audition.

Nine is wonderful because you are not jaded by society. The opinions of others don’t have an effect on you. You are so perfectly you and accept grace for any imperfections without questioning if you’re worthy of it.

Nine is the age where you still play with your action figures and occasionally wear a mask, but also ask to have a YouTube channel. No to YouTube, but feel free to be Iron Man as long as you’d like. 

Nine is seeking attention in some of the most terrible ways because you can’t keep up with your oldest brother’s accolades or your littlest brother’s adorableness. Some of your ways are so awful, they make me think I’m a failure. Trying to figure out nine has been a challenge for me, every single day. A challenge I will continually face head-on because nine is worth it.

Nine is the often joked about middle child, but you, my boy, are no joke. You are nine and it’s all I could want or need from you. You’re so incredibly nine and I wish for nine to stay as long as it can.


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