That's what Luke said to me as I was backing out of the garage with everyone in the van while on the cell phone filing a claim with the insurance company for a broken windshield (honestly, having them confined in their seats feels like the only time I can get through a business call). Slam! I ran into the jeep. The jeep which had just returned from the shop. Sigh. The part that bothers me about this is not that I hit the jeep. No harm done to the jeep or van - a few more black scuffs actually makes it easier to identify among the sea of silver vans in the Wal Mart parking lot. No, what really bothers me is how quickly Luke jumped in to emotionally take care of me. Don't get me wrong. I appreciate his sensitivity and love that he is a compassionate little boy. But I do worry that, at five, he is taking on roles he should not. He tells me often that he can't wait for his brothers to walk and talk so they can play with him ( me too, I think ) and does his very best to play on their level. I have been his play mate and companion for some time now and Luke has watched me closely. He has watched me struggle after Wil was born, struggle through Timothy's pregnancy and then his birth, struggle with our recent move and the strain it has caused. I am always aware that he is watching and try to be careful about what I am communicating but I am also aware that Luke picks up far more than I realize. And somewhere in the midst of all this he is feeling like he needs to take care of me. So, this dynamic. Not good. I'm not worried, we'll get it worked out. Just not so bummed I hit the jeep anymore.