Just like every other 9-year-old in the world, I hated going to sleep. My brother, Jeremy, is 6 years older so he was allowed to stay up much later than me. When 8:45 rolled around and it was time to put down my book or walk away from the TV to brush my teeth and get ready for bed, I’d trot out my acting skills in an attempt to convince my mother that I was wide awake and should be able to stay up. This never worked.