The night before her eighth birthday, I found my daughter Lizzy weeping（v.抽泣） in her bed. "I love being seven," she sobbed. "I don't want to be eight!"
I held her in my arms and explained that being eight was going to be even better than being seven. I told her how much I loved her and what a wonderful birthday she was going to have. Eventually she was comforted, or maybe I just talked her to sleep.
I understood her feelings. It's always strange to imagine getting older, even when you aren't very old. I know that my own intense "when I grow up" yearnings throughout childhood were locked in combat（n.战斗） with an equally intense wish that nothing would ever change. I never wanted to be a "grown-up" or even an adolescent.
I don't remember whether I loved being 7, but I loved being 12. Toward the end of being 12, I was afraid that I'd become a different and detestable person on my 13th birthday. On that day, without my permission, I would wake up and not be a kid anymore.
I would be a "teenager." Instead of climbing trees and spending my days outdoors, I would wear my hair in a ponytail（n.马尾辫）, put on lipstick, and talk on the phone constantly. I would grow breasts, which looked to me like a real nuisance(n.讨厌的事情) at the time, and have to wear a bra. Obnoxious（adj.不愉快，讨厌的） seventh-grade boys would see the bra strap through my shirt and would reach out and snap it in the hallway in junior high. I had seen this happen to other girls.
