Carseat, Optional

By the time I get to Friday, a lot of my synapses aren't firing anymore. You know how it is, right? It just so happens that there was one particular synapse, the one that tells you to strap your child into his carseat before you leave the garage, that wasn't only not firing it was still in bed waiting for someone to bring it breakfast.

During the whole ride from our apartment to his school, Ian was frantically trying to get my attention.

"MOOMMMMMM!!!!"

I'm looking ahead, wishing I had thought to put some coffee in my 1-800-Mattres (leave off the last "s" for savings) travel mug before leaving. "Ian, don't bother me, I'm driving."

"BUT, MOOOMMMM!!!"

"Ian, don't yell while I'm driving. You're going to make me have an accident."

Julian tries to help. "Mom, Ian wants you."

Thanks. "Boys, there are lots of books and things back there. Can't you keep yourselves busy for 5 minutes?!"

"MOOOMMM, I have to show you something!"

"Ian, show me when we get to school. I can't turn around when I'm driving."

Julian again, with a note of concern in his voice. "Mom, I don't think you strapped in Ian."

WHAT!??! I'm stopped at an intersection with a Hummer sitting impatiently on my back bumper. Didn't they outlaw those things? I whip around to look at Ian. Sure enough, there he is hanging out in the back with narry a seatbelt.

There's a backstory here which will help you understand how much I flipped out on myself at that moment. When Ian was about a year old, and we were in Madrid for a family wedding, I nearly HELD UP THE WEDDING so we could find a carseat to put Ian in for the cross-town drive from our hotel to the church. We just hadn't thought about how Ian was going to travel to the wedding until we were all on the curb in our finest hailing taxis. Where's Ian's carseat? My husband gave me this blank look. Can't he ride on someone's lap? Madre mia, over my dead body. Ian and I stood in front of the hotel for a good 45 minutes while my poor husband and his family scrambled to rectify the situation. Listen, I try not to be the crazy American, but it's hard, especially when my kid is involved. I just thank God he can humor me when things like this happen.

So, with flashbacks of Madrid, I pull the car over and jump out, run around to Ian's side and strap him in. In these moments, just like a good therapist, Ian somehow knows exactly what I need to hear.

"Mom, don't worry. You were just being silly."

Oh, how I love this one.