V turned 9 last weekend. 9! That’s like almost a decade! 9 year olds are called preteens in these parts! What?! As you can see, the craze for superheroes hasn’t abated yet. 4th year running. This time he drew me a sheet of symbols to copy from because I told him it was too tedious to research superhero images yet again. In case you’re flummoxed (and I don’t blame you), the red cross is the X-men’s logo, followed by Green Lantern’s symbol. If you don’t know the third, welcome to the outside from under that rock. Please first gain the ability to speak and clothe yourself before delving into the world of these macho men and women. It’s funny how strangers’ 9-year-olds look so much older and you expect them to behave very differently from your own 9yo who, because of how intimately familiar you are with him, still feels like a baby. Your baby. With this birthday, I can feel the parenting winds start to shift: “Because I said so”-type phrases will likely have to be phased out in the coming year. The birds and bees serious discussion is looming on the horizon. Many other changes small and big seem to be imminent in the next few years. As long as it’s all about superheroes, though, I can sometimes pretend he’s still my baby.