Recently I experienced the pain of an empty car seat. Since I’ve been taking care of our son during the days we’ve been constant companions in and out of the car during the day. I’ve found myself constantly flipping the rear view mirror down or up to check on him when we’re stopped at a light or stop sign. He is my car buddy and it is comforting to know that he is there.
Recently my wife went to a baby shower for one of her close friends and she wanted to take our rambunctious child along for the ride. I was to go and pick up dinner on the other side of town. This would make the trip appropriately short for our son and also ensure that we made it home with dinner in hand. It wasn’t until I flipped that rear view mirror that I realized how everything had changed.
As I was driving along I realized that our son was no longer in the back seat. It was empty. He was gone. While this shouldn’t have been surprising (I knew he was with his Mom) and the length of my trip was relatively short, it still bothered me a little bit: I was missing him. Most of the time he just sort of zones out by looking out the windows at the passing cars and passing buildings. Sometimes he’ll try to play catch with a ball and become upset when it falls to the floor and I can’t (and won’t attempt to) retrieve it for him. All of this sort of flashes back to me after I realize that he is not back there for this trip. It’s official: I love our son. I’ve known this all along, of course, but I like the fact that he makes trips more interesting. I like it when he’s there.