I’ve been campaigning long and hard in the race to get at least one child to secure their own seat belt when we get in the car so that I might grab another minute somewhere else in my day. I mean really, can’t they make toddler restraints easier for those dang kids to get in and out of? Safety be damned: I’ve got washing to get in at home before it rains and this whole seatbelt thing is slowing me down!
And it was only recently that I realised it was the seat belts which were disabling me from getting a quick getaway from dance class or school or people I just didn’t want to talk to, when the Duchess of Nurkasa managed to beat me out of a driveway (when we’ve both got two children of similar ages) by a good five minutes. I literally did a double take. Was she pole vaulting from one side of the car to the other? Had she purchased some new fandangled automatic child restraint from Sweden?
No, she’d just taught her kids to put their own seat belts on.
So simple it’s stupid. And Mrs Stupid is sitting here doing the typing.
These moments have been exacerbated of late by the arrival in our neighbourhood of a newborn who is perfect in every way. I won’t say my ovaries are aching but I have been giving my kids a longer squeeze at cuddle times. Let me be clear- I do not want another baby- I just want the ones I’ve got to stop growing up so ridiculously fast.
Anyhoo, in the getaway stakes I’m ahead one minute thanks to Sussie self seat belting, but down about two minutes because I find myself using that minute we’ve gained to give her a big kiss and a squeeze as I sail into the driver’s seat. So really, I’m up about three minutes, or down five. I’m not sure.