I have long suspected that the body of my son, Cole, harbours a much older soul. Already, at the tender age of five, he can roll his eyes, arch his eyebrows and look at you askance with the kind of flare and subtle finesse that, by rights, should only be learned after years of enduring bad jokes and dealing with annoying relatives. Up until today I'd always credited his unique skill simply to a good eye and an incredible talent for mimicry. I never suspected the true level of his genius.

This afternoon Cole and I were arguing over who loved each other more.

"I love you."

"I love you more."

"No, I love you more."

And so the debate raged until suddenly Cole paused, cocked his head to the side and, looking up at me from beneath huge, unblinking eyes he asked, "Well, how much do you love me?"

I considered the question for only a moment. Feeling a little smug, I took a deep breath and prepared to dazzle him. "I love you... from the moon to the stars to the next quadrant, to the outer rim of our galaxy and beyond..." I took a deep breath and added, "And back again."

His expression knowing and just a little sad, Cole shook his head, and said on a sigh. "I love you more."

And then he turned and walked away.