Remember having your first child and going to Babies R Us to shop for the first baby car seat? Remember the rows and rows and huge variety from super masculine Jeep ones to dainty pink flowered ones and then the wide range in quality, the five point harness systems and all?
You buy the car seat and then take it down to the police station for the safety check and instructions on how to install it properly, not wanting to take any chances with the safety of your about to be born baby.
And then your wife gives birth and you have to take this baby home for the first time. They actually trust you to sustain life for this little peanut that is tiny and weak and soft and you have to strap the baby into the car seat for the first time.
You’re sweating bullets hoping to god you don’t smoosh the baby. Your body contorted in unnatural ways reaching over the seat and trying to be as gentle as you can while in a position that when you do it for the first time seems like some mean ass yoga instructor is trying to punishing you for being a bad student.
And every day for years you put yourself in that weird position to buckle your children into their car seats cursing the placement of the belts and the hooks that secure the straps and contorting your body, saying to yourself “I can’t wait til they can buckle themselves in.”
The baby car seats become receptacles for every spilled juice box, dried up and crusted on yogurt stick, cracker, cookie and pretzel crumb. Stained, abused and no matter how much you think when you paid ALLL THE MONEY for the best one you could afford, the thing is inevitably going to look like its been through war torn Iraq and back as seating for a pack of wild monkeys.
And then your babies start to grow and the baby car seat gets nastier and nastier.
And then one day you look back after cursing at the car seat for all those times you were uncomfortable buckling in your kids in the rain and the snow it hits you…
Pretty soon they’re not gonna need car seats.
And that’s gonna be a really sad day.