Seven, Eight, and Half of Nine Were Worth Waiting Out

Big Brother J, for whom I've been caring since he was 6 months old (even while I was not his nanny for two years, I still babysat, and visited at holidays), will turn ten in a few weeks.

Ten. I know, right?

Seven and eight were rough for J and I. He and I share a lot of common passions, a relentless thirst for new stuff to learn about, ravenous consumption of books, love of dogs; we are both first children and type Aish people. I get him. Seven and eight tested my patience because he was restless and obnoxious and apparently smarter than everyone else. This is not to say it was all bad. J's really a pretty good egg. But eight stayed for a while into the beginning of nine, and I'll admit, I grew frustrated.

With ten on the near horizon, though, I'm glad I'm here. J has turned out to be, when not behaving like a typical ten year old boy (fart jokes, sister baiting, etc), a responsible, smart, good natured, interesting kid. He's for the most part, kind to his little brother and to Felix, if not to his sister (they're two years apart, what do you expect?). He does his homework and can be trusted to stay home for small time periods. He's researching dog breeds and a trip to China. He will happily help out with Felix, including putting him in his high chair and getting him up from naps. What more can you ask for?

Oh, and he gives good reading recommedations. Seriously. Biased towards young adult fantasy and mystery/thrillers, but well written stuff for the most part.