The oldest child in our house is turning 8. This shouldn't seem like that big of a deal.
It’s still single digits. Our state and federal governments confer no additional privileges upon 8-year-olds. She won’t change schools. It should just be another number signifying that she’s still a decade away from moving out (i.e., not soon). Right?
Not to me.
In 1983 – the year I turned 8 – was huge. In a way, it was the beginning of my childhood.