Montreal, Canada

My son wants the booster seat gone, and I am the one resisting

Dear Delyara, My son is thirteen and tall enough that the old booster seat has not been used for years. It has been sitting in the garage because every time I plan to donate it, I find another reason not to. Today, he saw it and said, “Dad, seriously?” He picked it up and carried it toward the donation pile. I told him to wait. He laughed and said, “You know I’m not shrinking, right?” I know. His mother and I divorced when he was four. That booster seat moved between our cars twice a week for years. I buckled him into it after preschool, after birthday parties, after nights when he cried because he did not want to leave one parent for the other. I learned how to answer questions about divorce while watching him through the rear-view mirror from that seat. Now he sits in the front and complains about my music. This afternoon, we cleaned the booster together. A biscuit crumb from another geological era fell out of the fabric. He said it was disgusting. I said it was history. We donated it. I came home and felt stupidly empty looking at the space in the garage. Parenting is apparently a series of safety devices becoming unnecessary while the parent remains emotionally attached to the danger they once prevented.