Today I picked up a used Shawn Colvin CD. As soon as I started the car, I stuck it in for the drive home. The opening song was her rendition of "Every Little Thing," an old song I know well. After the first stanza I decided I could follow her stylistic choices well enough and started singing along: "Do I have to tell the story/of a thousand rainy days since we first met/it's a big enough umbrella/but it's always me who ends up getting wet..."

About a minute into my joining her, my 3yo son exclaimed, "Wow, Mama, you know all the words to this song already?" Evidently he thought I magically anticipated all those phrases of what to him was a brand-new song. I glanced in the mirror to see his eyebrows raised and mouth slightly open in the surprise of unexpected admiration, at least that's how I interpreted it.

"She's singing a song I learned a long time ago," I explained. "I won't know the next one."

"Oh." Eyebrows returned to normal, mouth shut, unimpressed.

Mom's not got psychic talent after all. Nope, I'm just an old fan of Sting. Sorry to disappoint.