What nine looks like

In Waldorf, there's a lot of talk about the "nine-year change." Rudolf Steiner says, "In the ninth year the child really experiences a complete transformation of its being, which indicates an important transformation of its soul-life and its bodily-physical experiences." Parents in my daughter's third grade class are learning that nine year olds go through a sort of preadolescence, and we begin to get a sense of what they will be like as teenagers. It all seems so text-book, and it's true that I have seen changes.

Here are a few: in the past year, she has learned the gentle art of sarcasm. She prefers earrings to princesses and clothes to dolls. When upset, she no longer flings herself into my arms, but goes away to cry quietly behind closed doors.

Sometimes she cries without knowing why. Recently, she realized she had hurt a friend's feelings, and she took it hard. "I don't like hurting my best friend," she sobbed. Into the bathroom she went, armed with the phone to make an apology phone call.

It is tough stuff, this growing up.

But the other day, after driving some neighbor-friends to their house from a playdate, Ireland asked if she could walk while I drove home. I agreed, and I drove slowly, watching her out the driver side window. She skipped. She twirled. She stopped to say hello to a cat. She hopped up curbs. She is not so heavy yet upon this earth.

And just now, she came flying through the front door from girl scouts, earrings flashing, the kinder-necklace her little brother gave her for her birthday bouncing. "Oh my gosh! They had things that were a quarter. Like you could get four things for a dollar." Then she burst into song. Then, "I went four or five miles for a walk today. Really! It was sooo long."

You know what? I'm outta here. I'm off to hang out with this sweet, sometimes complicated, funny, kind, and always soulful nine year old.

Happy birthday, darling girl.