This poem makes me think of Luke, at exactly this age. He is so full of ideas and dreams...huge, seemingly impossible plans...and he believes that he can accomplish them all.
If only we all still felt that way.
This is an age of magic and wonder, of growing and trying. Right now he's loving planning inventions and grand treehouses. He still loves when I read to him. He's adventurous and outgoing. Kind, but impatient. Suddenly he's got a voice, something to say about everything...ready to fight, love or laugh.
Nine will be a good year.