I just sent an email to the director of my son's school program. We email back and forth a lot and she is a great listener. Recently, after I received a form from the school district asking for a check for this year's high school yearbook, I emailed her and asked if there was any way we could put together a yearbook for Wynn, and the three other boys in his program--something that would actually have pictures of them in it, doing meaningful things, going to meaningful places.....something that my son could use to help him process each school year and document that he was truly in it. She said yes. Right away, she said yes. And last week she emailed me a photo of Wynn bowling in black and white bowling shoes. I hope that one makes it in the yearbook. Somehow I think it will.

Yesterday, Wynn and I and one of his teachers took a road trip to see his doctor. On one stretch of highway, Wynn caught sight of a dead raccoon. He doesn't notice when his zipper is down, or that he has spaghetti sauce on his face or that his toenails are 3 inches long, but he never misses a dead animal on the side of the road. The rest of the drive back to school, Wynn wondered aloud about that raccoon. How did he get there? Was he dead or alive? Do dead animals make good pets? and on and on.

He continued his perseveration on that darn raccoon after school as well. It evolved from wanting to call the police to rescue the raccoon (even though I explained that a dead raccoon is beyond rescue) to a detailed plan to steal a police hat, borrow my car, pick up a friend, rescue the animal himself and then bury in the ocean for a whale or shark or such at eat for dinner.

And somewhere in the middle of this breathless conversation between himself and his delusions, he said something that broke my heart. "I'm never going to drive a car, am I?" he asked. He'll be 15 next month and he can't read. But still, he'll be 15 next month, and the other part of him that has a deepening voice and light-colored whiskers above his upper lip, wants to do what every teenage boy wants to do and it has nothing to do with his report card and everything to do with motors and speed and skidmarks.

Every boy deserves a chance to sit behind a wheel of something bigger and stronger than himself, and so I sent an email to his teacher. It mentioned, among other suggestions, the idea that Wynn might be interested in driver's ed---an adaptive version, to be sure, but something that would (please) help keep my son's dream alive.

Am I crazy?