Meg worked on Saturday morning, and it was supposed to be daddy and Jamie’s time to “go on a ‘venture” as he puts it.

The day would start out with a short visit to his grandma and “bumpa’s” house. Then, maybe we’d head off to a local zoo, or the airport to watch planes. In short, it was a morning designed around the recreation of a 2-year-old. But one lesson I have learned as a parent is nothing ever goes quite as planned.

I opened the rear door of our Corolla, placed my son in his car seat as I’ve done hundreds of times before, and noticed there was an enormous amount of give. I could shake the seat from side to side.

I took Jamie out.

“OK Jamie, I need you stand right there,” I told him, pointing to an empty area in the garage where any potential mischief could be contained.

It was time for daddy to do some work. An hour-and-a-half later…

He didn’t stand right there. He ran around the garage like a crazy person (aka a 2-year-old). His hands were black. He found every dark and dingy corner of the garage and finger-painted. Then he face painted. He picked up leaves, crumpling them between his tiny digits. He picked up sticks and tossed them into the air. And pretty soon he looked nothing like the freshened up boy, who moments ago was ready to go on a ‘venture.

I opened both rear doors to our Corolla, bouncing back and forth, assessing the situation as he played. I needed to change the installation system from the belt to latches, because the seatbelt no longer locked well enough to hold the seat in place. The problem seemed simple enough.

But time lost fighting a seatbelt and a car seat is time I will never win back – and I spent more time than I wanted to with this unanticipated problem. As I walked around either side of the car I had to dodge my son who stood behind me and asked “Why?” the whole time.

“So I can keep you safe in the car,” I told him. Good answer, I thought. Responsible.

“But I don’t wanna be safe daddy,” he told me. “I don’t wanna be safe in the car.”

I’ve never done assembly well. I’ve never done elaborate directions well. It stand to reason that stubborn car seats have never been in my wheelhouse. Having a kid pulling on your leg while you’re swearing that you are smarter than the technology you are working with can do funny things to your disposition, and your ability to problem-solve.

“I wanna go on a ‘venture!!” he insisted, as if this desire was something totally new and not repeated for the 500^th time in an hour.

I began to wonder if safety in the car was overrated. I tried multiple ways, but couldn’t get the locking mechanism on the seat belt to work. My son vocalized his desire for how he wanted to spend his morning. His desires lined up pretty well with our plans that landed on the back burner.

“We can’t go yet bud.”

“Why?”

I needed a large cup of coffee before I answered that, or any other “Why?” for everybody’s sake. If there is one parenting lesson I should have learned by now (but haven’t), it is patience. Sometimes it feels less like a behavior or practice, and more like a non-renewable resource. I didn’t have a whole lot before becoming a parent. I haven’t stumbled on any that I didn’t know existed.

Instead of patience I have caffeine. It just makes me a little nicer while my expectations for any given situation are being shredded.

As I became increasingly frustrated with the seat belt, my patience faltered hard. I used the Lord’s name in vain, and by the time I caught myself I convinced my son that I simply said “Cheez Its,” the name of one of his favorite crunchy snacks. To my knowledge, Jamie’s vocabulary did not expand in negative or harmful ways.

Eventually I was able to secure the car seat through the latches. I knelt into the seat and pulled the strap tight enough that the seat was not going anywhere. I cleaned Jamie up and loaded him into his seat. We went on an abbreviated venture that began with a trip through the local drive through, and a large cup of patience.

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