I’m beginning to suspect that Otto was excited about Chickadee finally getting her driver’s license because it afforded him the legitimate opportunity to talk endlessly about Our Next Car. Otto LOVES talking cars, in a way I will never understand, but I tolerate it because I adore him and he’s cute. Also, any time I go to him and say, “There’s a light on my dashboard that sort of looks like a fish that lit up…?” he knows exactly what it is (and fixes it). He’s handy to have around, even if he gets a little too excited about cars, sometimes.

Here’s what matters to me in a car: 1) It should get me from point A to point B without any of the pieces falling off, and (hey, Georgia!) 2) the air conditioning should work. That’s… pretty much it. My current car doesn’t even have one of those remote clicker thingies so I have to unlock the door with a key LIKE AN ANIMAL. I don’t care.

Otto cares, deeply, about makes and models and mileage and design. While I count down the days until graduation—a tangible, shareable proof that we all made it out of The Bad Years not unscathed, no, but ultimately triumphant—Otto is reading his automotive magazines cover to cover, lurking on various WE TALK ABOUT CARS A LOT discussion forums, and scheming a dozen different ways to make all of his 4-wheeled dreams come true. (Sometimes it’s “You should think about this kind of car,” which is fine, but other times it’s “We should trade in this car and get that car for you and then I’ll swap my car for this and she can have this other thing” and I start rocking back and forth with my fingers in my ears.)

So he’s thinking about cars, and I am realizing I’m thinking about proximity. (More on that at Alpha Mom, if you want to come over.)