Double-Digits

M. Peevie here.

It's really weird, but being a double-digit age does not feel any different from being a single-digit age.  I mean from yesterday to today:  no difference.  I have been feeling more grown-up lately, though.

Do you like how my blog post title is just like my mom's last post about me--only she wrote Double Wides and I wrote Double Digits?  Hee.  I did that on purpose.  It's called a literary something--something that means both sides the same.

[Mom's note:  Parallelism, M. Peevie.  Parallelism.]

My mom teaches me words like that--like "literary something"--only she uses the right word, and then I don't know what she means, and I say, "What does that mean?" and she explains it; and then I get bored and change the subject, and then I forget the word anyway.  I don't know why she uses big words with me when I am just a kid.

So I was saying that I feel more grown up lately.  I think it's because I am now in fourth grade, and clearly fourth grade is WAY HARDER than third grade or any other grade that came before.  (Last year when I was only nine, I said some jokes about third grade being hard.)  Our teacher, Mrs. WarmAndFuzzy, is very tough on us, like she expects us to be as smart and organized as grown-ups or something.  I feel nervous a lot of the time in her class, and I feel my forehead coming down over my eyes.

I think maybe I also feel more grown-up because I have to do SO MANY MORE CHORES in my house.  My mom started going to work every day, and so she says that us kids have to help out more around the house.  I call bogus.  I am just a kid.  I should not have to spend every Saturday morning doing chores, PLUS have to do chores during the week also.

I had my birthday party on Friday night, three days before my real birthday.  It was a "late-over"--which is like a sleep-over, only the guests go home late instead of sleeping over.  Get it?  Ten girls--eleven including me--came to my party.  Those girls can really shout some decibels, if you know what I mean.  Decibels means how loud something is.

We had pizza and cake and tiny cans of Pepsi and rootbeer and Dr. Pepper.  For a craft project, we got to decorate white pillow-cases with bright-colored Sharpies.  That was my idea, and my mom said it was a really good one.  We also played Twister, had a scavenger hunt, and watched part of a movie.  It sort of seemed like no one was sticking to my List of Things To Do At My Party, but my mom said that the girls had fun anyway, and that that was the most important thing.

I think the most important thing was that we follow the List of Things to Do At My Party, because it was, you know, my party, but whatever.

Oh!  I almost forgot to say that I got to open cards and presents, which I REALLY enjoyed.  My mom took a picture of me and each girl, with me holding up the present they gave me.  My mom said maybe I could ask the girls to bring a present or a book for a kid in a homeless shelter, instead of a present for me; and I did not say this, but I was thinking, "ARE YOU INSANE?!  I LOVE PRESENTS!"

(And plus, she should know better, because I know for a FACT that she loves presents, too.)

Anyway, enough about my party.  A lot of stuff has happened in my life since I turned nine.  I broke my leg, for one thing, right before our Christmas trip to Pennsylvania to see my grandparents.  My dad took my brothers to see the Liberty Bell, and I did not get to go.  I was not pleased.

But there is one more new thing I have to tell you about:  I am playing saxophone in the band!  My daddy bought me my own saxophone, and I can already play "Ode to Joy" and "Jingle Bells" by heart.  Sometimes C. Peevie and I play duets in the living room, until my mom says her head hurts and can we please go down the basement.

I am thinking that I will now ask my mom and dad to please please please let me open my presents because it is now nine o'clock at night, and I am tired of waiting.  So I will talk to you next year.