I'm convinced. There MUST be a good little person down inside of Trevor, just trying to escape. Sometimes I see him surface, but he is usually held captive by bugs, burps, toots, and mud. Somewhere...way down deep...he sits quietly and waits for his chance. I love this little "quiet person"... who snuggles on my lap (still), and holds my hand on walks. I also love the "other" Trevor, the one who can't sit still, and must --MUST-- make noise. But, oh, how I long for quiet inactivity at times.
On the other hand, I can only imagine the kinds of things Trevor will be able to accomplish someday with that much resolve and an unending energy level.