My youngest son turned nine years old the other day. As we were eating breakfast, I asked him how he felt now that he was nine.

“Well,” he said after a pause, “I’m happy.”

We stared at each other for a few heartbeats. “You mean, as opposed to the previous eight years?” I asked.

“What?”

“Sheesh,” I said. “Nine years before you feel happy? I’m getting you an Eeyore shirt.”

“That’s not what I meant!”