This past weekend I got rid of JP’s car seat and replaced it with a booster. He’s four and half, so this is a bit late, I suppose, but JP’s pretty slender (he just reached the minimum weight of 40 pounds), and I’m pretty lazy. He was more than a little excited about the new chair, not because he didn’t like the old one, but if you tell JP, “here, this is a new thing, and it’s YOURS!” he’s thrilled. I suppose there’s a lesson somewhere in that about his desire for autonomy, perhaps a small signal of some overparenting, or maybe he just likes new stuff that’s his. I don’t know.

Either way, I was surprisingly happy with the whole thing. I felt some inexplicable gush of pride when I got him in the seat and he insisted on threading the belt through the shoulder harness. And when we arrived at our destination and he unbuckled himself without myself, I was even more pumped–next stop Harvard, folks! The kid’s a genius.

Small pleasures for small minds, I know, but hey, who else, other than his mother, gets to witness, document, and feel the milestones of his life, however insignificant? Plus, you never know when something about your kid is going to get to you.

This whole parenting thing has turned me into a pudding. Someone please get me a Kleenex.