Reporter's Note: President Obama may never drive himself anywhere ever again. The rest of us…well, that’s a different story.

Dear Mr. President,

My younger daughter just received her learner’s permit for driving. I am not afraid.

I say that in all earnestness, because she is a reasonable, level-headed young woman whom I’m pretty sure will not go careening down the Beltway like some of the idiots I’ve encountered there. Actually, I’m much more concerned about her ability to avoid them than I am their ability to avoid her.

That said, would you mind loaning us that big, tank of a car of yours for a few weeks? It would certainly give me some extra peace of mind. Ha!

What startles me most about this development in our home is the simple way in which it underscores the passage of time. It truly seems like only yesterday that the girls were running around in ballet tutus, and watching The Little Mermaid, and discussing their Halloween costumes with the intensity of the Camp David talks.

To be honest, they’re still pretty much that way about Halloween costumes.

If you were to stop into our basement storage room you would be jaw-droppingly astonished at the array of costumes we have collected over the years. Bears, Furby’s, ghouls, ghosts, scarecrows, pirates, Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz. ( To be honest, we actually had an entire Wizard of Oz suite of costumes at one point so the whole family could go out together. I was the Tin Man.)

Still, I know now that we’re only a few months away from a full on driver’s license, and then I’ll be only a hop, skip and a jump from watching her drive off into the sunset and the magnificent life that no doubt stretches before her.

Ahhh…youth.

Going for a long run this morning. If you read this soon enough and want me to swing by for a few quick miles, give me a call.

Regards,

Tom