Driving the 45-minute drive from Albany to Eugene, I can see him in the rear-view mirror. He sits forward in his seat belt and with a little smile on his face. His older brother sits in the passenger seat working on some paperwork.

“I just want to thank you for taking us somewhere fun,” Spencer says.

I nearly laugh. It makes it sound like we were making a break from the orphanage. That I am the male version of Miss Hanigan. We don’t get out much, it seems.

Of course, somebody in front of us buys the last tickets for Diary of a Wimpy Kid. That meant waiting more than two hours for the next show. We can do that in the mall, right?

Yes, I want a smoothie with three straws. Got a problem with that?

At the arcade, he’s cutting me off on a turn. Must take him out now, wrenching the wheel sharply on the racing game. Boy that music’s loud. I must be getting old.

Hey, there’s a Target. $2 hot dogs will do just fine for dinner.

And we’re back at the bumper cars because I can’t afford the Go-Karts. In the end, Spencer’s eyes were wide and he says, “This is an adrenaline rush.” Poor boy doesn’t get out much.

No son, I will not buy the $700 stove at Sears, no matter how much the lady in the blue shirt wants us to.

We’re at the movie now. The boys eat popcorn in one continuous motion, sending some friendly fire to two rows ahead of us. Three of us share a tankard of Diet Coke with three straws.

After the movie, the sun is shining as we leave the mall. He’s quiet as we make the drive home. I try to make conversation with little success. I wonder if I accomplished anything today.

At home, I start doing the dishes when Spencer walks  up to me and just smiles.

“You know something,” he says. “This was just an awesome day.”

Looks like we need to get out more.

Spencer