Christopher put the baby’s car seat in on Sunday.

I stood around reading the manual while he talked about how the activity was stressing him out. Good times all around! I hate reading manuals but I felt it was the responsible parent thing to do. It was probably more helpful than my speech about not liking car seats until the child is old enough to buckle/unbuckle himself. 


We drove down to the fire station to have them inspect our work because have I mentioned the responsible parent thing? Not to mention that the car seat was flopping all around which seemed just a little unsafe. The front door of the fire station was locked so we walked around back. The back door was unlocked but the place looked dead so naturally Christopher walked right in and started poking around. This would be a good time to point out that the 911 system in our town is less than stellar. They’re pretty much a 9-5 operation that takes the weekends off. I wish I was kidding. Based on this knowledge I wasn’t surprised no one was around. I stood by the door while Christopher looked for someone then decided I didn’t want to be charged as an accomplice if he got in trouble for wandering the building. I vowed to stay with him in sickness and in health, not situations of possible arrest. I fled the scene with a clean conscience. 


Just as I was walking away from the door a fire truck pulled up. I didn’t know what else to do so I avoided eye contact and made it seem as if I was VERY INTENT of fixing my hair. In other words, I tried to look completely sweet and innocent. When I got to the car I realized it was locked but never fear! The window was down so I reached in and unlocked it. Everyone knows the best way to protect the new car seat you just paid an arm and a leg for is to leave the car locked with the window down. 


In what is the most anticlimactic ending to a story in the history of stories, the firemen weren’t upset about a law-abiding citizen wandering their halls. They looked at the car seat in all it’s floppy glory and declared it was made that way. “The weight of the infant will hold it down.” Well let’s hope we have a 16 pound infant* because a tiny 4 pounder won’t do much.


The fire chief did point out that generally the police station is the place to visit in times of car seat questions. I told Christopher that but yet we ended up at the fire station. I never vowed to not keep track of how many times I am right during our marriage, so another point for Team Sarah. 


*I am so totally kidding about the 16 pounder. I never in a million years want to deliver a baby that large.