Soapbox

So I’ve got this kid,… and I feel like I’m finally starting to really get a handle on this baby thing, and suddenly I realize that he got it figured out way before I did, and really isn’t a baby any more!

This child, who just recently was spitting up milk and accidentally jamming his fist in his eye now runs around the house with a farm animal book, mooing at the cow. He actually makes a whole host of animal noises, usually at the appropriate animal too. He knows how to scoot himself on his new little tricycle, although so far he can only go backwards. He knows what he wants (and doesn’t want) for dinner and doesn’t hesitate to make his feelings known. When you pick him up he throws his arms around you for "hugs and licks" (I’m assuming he’ll outgrow that game sometime before his first girlfriend) and has a favorite TV show (Sesame street. He likes "cowboy X" and Kermit’s song, "Do-wop, do-wop, HOP!")

The cool thing is that right now, I’m his best friend and he thinks I’ve got all the answers. The bummer is, not only won’t that last, but he’ll never remember these times.

Maybe, when he has his own kid, he’ll have flashbacks to what a great pal I was. A mom can hope, right?

So I’ve got this kid…and I’m still pretty new at the whole thing, but I like to think that I’m doing OK. We’ve been having a run of super-cold weather, and today it was -8 degrees. I had some errands I had to run, so I zipped the baby in his snow suit and off we went. On the way home I stopped at the gas station to get some kerosene for the heater so we wouldn’t all end up with frostbite in our own beds. Don’t ask me how it happened, ’cause I have no real memory of doing it, but when I tried to get my purse out of the car to pay for the kerosene, I found that the car doors were locked, keys laying up on the dash, Stephen sleeping in his car seat inside. Naturally, I freaked.

Oh my God, my baby is going to freeze to death right before my very eyes!! I ran into the office of the gas station and pleaded with Earl or whoever was in there to please break into my car for me- matter of life and death. He fooled around with a coat wire for a few minutes and said, “Ma’am, this car is too hard to break into. You’d better call the police. ”

Which of course I did, trying not to sob into the pay phone because my tears were going to freeze right there on my face. The officer very calmly rolled onto the lot 5 minutes later; and I was at the car with my face up against the window watching Stephen sleep.(Do his lips look a little blue? Is his breath starting to steam as the car cools down?) The cop smiled at me like this happens to him every day and took a lock shim or whatever you call it and began fishing around inside my door for the lock mechanism. He looked over at me and said,

“Ma’am, why do you lock your car?”

“Well I didn’t mean to lock it here at the gas station and certainly not with the baby inside…”

“No,” he said, “I mean, why do you lock it at all? If there’s something in your car that a thief wants, and your door is locked, he’ll just smash your window to get it. Then you’ll have your item stolen and a broken window to deal with. I just wouldn’t ever lock my car, period. ”

And having said that, he popped up the lock and stood back as I swarmed in to rescue my poor freezing child, who was still asleep and was every bit as warm and comfortable as he had been 15 minutes before when I locked him in. I, on the other hand, was blue from cold and felt like the Stupid Police were going to come along and repossess my baby ’cause I’m clearly too dumb to be entrusted with the care of another human being.

So now, I won’t ever lock the doors on my car. If a crook wants something, hopefully he’ll just reach in and take it, because I’m never going to go through that again!