I am in the front seat of the car anxious and ready to leave because oh-my-god-if-we’re-we’re-not-at-least-5-minutes-early-we’re-LATE. Demetri is attempting to wrangle Zoey into her car seat. Zoey is attempting to negotiate her terms of travel*:
Demetri: Yes, you can bring your baby in the car.
Zoey: (kicking and flailing) Car seat! Bay-BEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!
Demetri: Baby doesn’t need to go in a car seat . . . Although you’re right, it would be safer for her. And safety is important.
Me: (audible eye roll that, sadly, isn’t heard because of all THE SCREAMING)
Zoey: (more kicking) Bay-BEEEEE! SEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAT!
Demetri: Well, I could put the booster seat in the car and then baby can sit in that!
Me: (massaging temples and whispering) Iamapatientperson . . . Iamapatientperson
Zoey: Baby. Seat. Car.
Demetri: Yeah, I’ll put the booster seat in and baby will always have a safe place to sit! And you can put her in her own seat every time we go in the car! Yeah! It’ll be so fun!
Me: (swivels around, locks eyes with Demetri) If you put that booster seat in the car We. Are. No. Longer. Friends.
And then I had to explain why I didn’t want to booster seat in the car. I HAD TO EXPLAIN. I mean, you get it right? Right?
* I, as the Mean Mommy, do not believe in terms of travel.
Here, baby is being taught to smell the flowers. And fight The Power (aka Mean Mommy)