So, Abigail is riding in a booster seat now.  Really, I guess it’s not that big of a deal, but for some reason, it has sent me into an emotional tailspin.  My baby, my little bitty teeny tiny baby, the one who didn’t hit 20 pounds until she was 18 months old, is out of her 5-point harness.  I’m not sure how comfortable I am with the whole notion.  I kept Gracie 5-pointed (at least in my car) until she started kindergarten.  But, Abigail begs to ride in one of the spare boosters EVERY. SINGLE. TIME. WE. GET. IN. THE. CAR.  And, people, I am tired.  She has completely worn me down.  I have been outmanned, outwitted, and out-pleaded by a 4-year-old.  Truthfully, I would have still been putting up the good fight except for one thing:  her pediatrician.

Now, I am fairly certain that Abigail does not know the phone number to her pediatrician’s office.  And, again, I’m fairly certain that if she did know the number, she wouldn’t be able to call it and actually get talk to her pediatrician.  I mean, I can’t call him up and talk to him any time I want, so why should Abigail be able to do that?  But, if I wasn’t fairly certain of those things, I would be sure that she had called him up and pleaded her case about the booster seat.  Because, at her 4-year Well Baby visit(my sister informed me that I should probably start calling them her Well Child visits ) , the pediatrician mentioned something about her being in a booster said.  And I said, full of my usual sanctimony, “Oh, no!  She’s still 5-pointed!”  I was sure he would reward me with a nod and a comment about how he wished other parents kept their children sufficiently restrained until they reach puberty.  He didn’t nod and there was no approving comment.  He looked at me like I’d grown another head.  “You know, she’s certainly old enough and tall enough and heavy enough to ride in a booster seat.”  Ummm…well..no.  And I probably would have just ignored him.  Except that there was another person in the room, listening to the conversation.  And that person was Abigail.  And my goose was cooked.  Because, now she had “The doctor said I could ride in a booster!” to her arsenal of tricks to wear me down.

So, she won.  She now is the proud owner of her very own pink, high-backed booster seat.  And she couldn’t be prouder or herself.  She has enjoyed that seat and I will admit, it’s been somewhat easier than fighting with her every time we get in the car.

And the bonus?  The box it came in was perfect for a homemade robot costume!  Because, even if she’s big enough for a big girl seat, she’s certainly not too big to put a cardboard box over her head and wander around our house for hours and hours, bumping into walls and doors until I finally cut a hole for her face in the box.  She asked me to cut the arms out so she could open the fridge and get out snacks while she was wearing it.  She even asked if she could sleep in it.  I talked her out of that, but promised her robot pictures!