the conscious objector

i'm afraid milo is going to be one of those kids who fights the seatbelt.

every time i wear one - in the car, on planes - he kicks furiously against it. he doesn't stop until i slip my hand or at least a couple of fingers between my belly and the belt to relieve the pressure. i sat on the runway in newark friday night for almost two hours before our two hour flight took off, and he expressed his displeasure strongly and continuously until i finally got the clear to take off my belt and lurch back to the lavatory, three hours in.

i wear the belt low, at my hips, and now under my belly, like i'm supposed to do, but he likes to hang out as far south as my cervix will allow, which puts him right in the line - or band - of fire. how does he know it's there? it's not like he's restricted. he just senses the lightest pressure. if i rest the laptop against my belly, or even a magazine - boom! - he tries to knock it away. and while it's cute now, it won't be so cute if he's still resisting seat belts when he has to get strapped into the car.

remember when the only people who wore seat belts were anal-retentive, stamp-collecting, pocket protector-wearing geeks? remember sitting on your father's lap while he drove the car - and sometimes he even let you steer? remember being surprised to learn the "kid seat" was actually an arm rest for the driver? anyone out there ever sleep in the rear car window while your dad drove through the night? ah, those were the days.

but these days, none of those things are an option, and milo will have to subject to the belt, whether he wants to or not. i have a gut feeling he won't submit without a fight.