Wednesday, February 8, 2012

Convertible Car Seats


Or better known as Riley's personal circle of hell.

Child hates them. With a passion unmatched.

Just opening the car door gets you a look of glaring disapproval out the corner of her eye. As you switch your hold on her to get her into the seat it's almost instinct for her to start arching her back & reaching for whatever surface will prevent her from entering the car.

Not to mention the fact that she's long & car doors are only so high so I'm also holding on for dear life as I bend my back in unnatural ways and practically climbing in the car with her.

Once in the seat the back arch is displayed to its full capacity. Only the tips of her toes and the top of her head are touching. She begins to twist, away from me of course. I have visions of her falling out the side, tumbling of the seat and then climbing into the front seat and driving away. At this point I am in the car, more in that stupid seat than she is. My purse is lost its contents spilled across whatever parking lot I'm in.

She fully twisted around, now standing in the seat facing forward grinning from ear to ear. "this is awesome, yo! Look at all I can see."

Gotta get her out, start over. She thinks she won. When she realizes I'm trying again she let's out a scream that could make steel shiver. She doesn't cry, no that would show weakness and by golly child is not weak. Fist are up, brow is furrowed and we're yelling. Just this week she started pointing her finger at me. It would be comical if the kid wasn't seriously giving me a scolding.

I use an amazing amount of strength to hold her hips in place with my upper arm while clumsily trying to maneuver her arms into the straps. I lose my glasses, she throws them somewhere. I'm near blind now. She grabs my hair, uses for leverage to pull her upper body out. I lose a lot of that as well.

Finally after what feels like hours but is really only a few minutes the child is in. I find my glasses, attempt to find my dignity, smooth my hair & begin to pick up everything I dropped. She may still be pissed and pointing at me, plotting her evil revenge for 3am but I won. This time.

Where does this strength come from? How can such a tiny little body make me fight so hard? Why heavens name would something with such little knowledge about safety and potential danger be able to move so damn quick?


  1. Sorry, I had to laugh. You paint a great mental picture! My niece used to cry every time she got in her "big girl seat". Hysterically. Though I don't think she battled it quite that dramatically :) She's cool with it now...but she long ago figured out how to unhook the buckles so good luck with that!