Unlatched

I've been holding out getting Lil E a new car seat for months. For nine or ten months, since my parents bought a booster style seat and Lil E started to take notice that all of his friends' seats use the "real seatbelt" rather than the 5-point lock dealy, have cupholders, and are lower and loosey-goosey and allow small children to roll down their own windows.

I've had a list of reasons to steer clear of a new car seat, at least for a little while. Lil E hasn't yet hit the max weight of 40 pounds (he's a peanut). I've reasoned that being higher has eased his motion sickness (he's an urper). And I've held on to the safety of the latch system and big, heavy, paddedness of it for his dear life. I said adamantly that there was no reason to spend money -- even if it was less than fifty bucks -- on a new seat when this one -- that I am sure was well over a hundred -- still works out just fine for us both.

Still, I've known that soon we'd need to switch out the car seat and that adequate was slipping away.

Just fine completely slipped away a few nights ago when I realized that we'd be picking up Lil E's friend for the day and we'd need a carseat for her in our car.

I was thinking it through out loud and said, "OH! I need to remember to get the carseat from Grandma and Grandpa's car and put it in ours."

Lil E saw the opportunity, leapt.

"Orrrrr," he raised his eyebrows at me as he drew the word into seven or eight syllables, "we could buy me a NEW carseat and let her use my old one."

"Hmmm," I said. I drew that response and my thoughts about it out as well.

I decided to put it back on the boy.

"Since the carseat you have now works just fine, tell me why you think it is a good idea to get a new one," I challenged.

He was up for it.

"Think about it this way, Mommy," he said seriously but not sternly. "What if you had a moon bracelet and you really loved it and it was pretty. But then your friend Lulu got a moon bracelet and it was sparkly and bigger and SO BEAUTIFUL. Wouldn't you want to have a new moon bracelet?"

I smiled. He was not just working it, he was deep in negotiations. He was somehow Donald Trumping this carseat deal. He kept on.

"That's how it is for me. I just really want two cupholders and maybe to roll down my own window. AND...annnnnnd, I could put the seatbelt on all by myself. That's why I think it is time."

I asked for clarification but I knew the answer already.

"Are the carseats your friends bigger kid carseats? Is that why?"

He nodded.

There's no way in the world I could say no to all of that, no way to veer away from being sucked in by an analogy of some kind of celestial jewelry and the lure of multiple cupholders. So I made him a deal that we'd stop by Target after school the next day and get a new carseat, and I lived up to my word.

I'm not going to pretend that going from full-baby protection to big-kid booster hasn't triggered the same maternal instinct that made me seriously contemplate buying a diaper wipe warmer or sterilize the bottles after every single use. Every time I strap him into the new seat (and no, he can't quit click it in himself yet), I saw a quick little prayer that he and this wobbly contraption and all his internal organs stay where they are supposed to be for that car ride.

But he's happy, flanked by two water bottles near his knees and even a few little lights for "evening child activity" on each side of the headrests. I'm working on it, trying to rest assured that he's big enough for a little less protection. And knowing that he's wise enough to get me a really good deal on my next car.

Comments

[furiousball]

sales, definitely sales - that kid has a talent