Recently, my 20-month-old daughter decided she no longer wanted to be secured in her car seat. After a year and a half of enjoying car rides, she suddenly declared it was over. Each time I placed her in the seat, she would wriggle free before I could buckle her in, flashing me a mischievous grin and giggling as if it were a game.
Her pediatrician had mentioned that this behavior was a common developmental phase. They advised that when I needed her to sit, gently applying pressure to her hips would help, as it was a safe area to hold. So, I took a deep breath, turned her around, and tried to keep her down with one hand while securing the straps with the other.
In an instant, her demeanor shifted from stubborn to frantic. She pushed against me with all her might, scratching and biting as if her very existence depended on it, and soon her cries filled the air. By the time I managed to tighten the strap, she was in tears.
I felt lost. Hadn’t I buckled her in countless times before? Why couldn’t she understand that this was for her protection? I hoped it was a one-time incident, but the next time I attempted to strap her in, she clung to me, protesting more fiercely until she erupted into a full meltdown at the mere sight of the car.
One afternoon, after picking her up from preschool, I opened the back door and set her down, only for her to immediately try to stand up in the seat. I braced myself for a battle—after a long week, I was exhausted, and the increasing traffic only added to my stress. But I realized I couldn’t keep fighting her.
My partner and I often joke about how our daughter is such a physical being; while we engage with the world through books and conversation, she immerses herself in movement. She adores her body and the freedom it brings, and my attempts to restrain her felt like I was robbing her of that joy.
So, I inhaled deeply (eager to remove my mask) and simply waited. My daughter eyed me warily, prepared for a fight, but I stood by her side. After about ten minutes, she finally turned around and sat down on her own.
In my journey as a parent, I’ve committed to prioritizing my daughter’s sense of agency over her body, with immediate safety being the only exception. This is a challenging lesson to impart, especially when I need to leave quickly or when I’m feeling overwhelmed.
However, I hope that this understanding will serve her well in the future, whether it’s with a partner making unreasonable demands, a doctor pushing unwanted treatments, or anyone criticizing her appearance or choices.
Now, when we get in the car, she still sometimes resists sitting down. I make sure to allow a few extra minutes when time isn’t pressing and use that time to read a few tweets, sip some water, or just breathe. I’ll offer her a toy or snack if she sits down, and more often than not, we’re ready to roll in under five minutes—a small price to pay for her to learn that her body is hers alone.
For more on parenting challenges, check out this post on bodily autonomy, and for a deeper dive into health-related topics, visit this authority on the subject. For excellent resources on pregnancy, including insights on home insemination, head to CDC’s pregnancy section.
Summary
Navigating the challenges of securing a child in a car seat can often clash with their burgeoning sense of autonomy. As a parent, it’s crucial to balance the need for safety with respect for a child’s bodily independence. This journey teaches valuable lessons about consent and agency that extend far beyond car rides.
- Car seat struggles
- Toddler autonomy challenges
- Parenting and safety
- Navigating child resistance
- Teaching consent to children