I'm an excellent driver. An excellent driver.

We're back and into our usual groove at the Casa de Questionés. Every day Gregg and I repeatedly field some random question asked between 12 and 15 times in as many minutes; we have determined that our breaking point is 16, when we have to leave the room and repeat the mantra "ilovethischildilovethischildilovethischild" before re-entering his orbit. The repeated question may be "what we going to do after this?" or "what is everybody doing?” a popular and unanswerable question asked on the street, in the car, on walks, at restaurants, in stores, at baseball games, in airports, at school and at any place that contains more humans than the three of us.

We have discussed why Shawn Joaquin does this. We know it is not a matter of forgetfulness or ignorance — when pressed, he can always answer the question himself, particularly after having it answered for him 8-10 times prior to that. One of his favorite parts of this repartee is when he is finally asked, "what do you think we're going to do after this?" to which he replies, "what do YOU think we're going to do after this?" Clearly he is on his way to being Rainman or Dr. S.J. Wheeler, psychiatrist.

I sometimes wonder if my son is weird. Not in a Columbine-weird kind of way, but in a dear, sweet way that makes him special and endearing to adults but worthy of garbage throwing by other children in his pre-teen years. It's a horrible admission to make, this concern about weirdness. He's so often in his own simple world and so concerned about safety — "I should not do that. It's not safe for children" — that I even wonder if somehow his birth date was faked and he's actually six months younger than he's reported to be and whether he will ever drive a car or be able to walk down the street without holding my hand. Then this morning he turned to me and said "Mama, look. The wind is playing music and the trees are dancing" with a sweet smile on his upturned face. And all worries about weirdness and pre-teen difficulties are forgotten.

I will let go of my concerns about his future and keep him three for as long as I can, knowing that the leap from 4 to 14 will come all too soon. And in the meantime, we will enjoy his innocence and the music of the wind in the trees while he can still hear it.