Too big for his britches...

...or, at least for his carseat.

This week has seen many milestones. Bigfella experienced the wheels of democracy by attending a nominating caucus for our US Congressional seat. I am so torn, since I would love to get the stinking republicans out of office, but I struggle to cast a vote for someone who is nominated simply because he is considered electable. Electable to me means most like a republican. So, the old guard dems in our district stood up and asked us to vote for the guy who is "electable." A guy who basically said that social justice and civil rights should be limited to health care, and not gay marriage. A guy who said he knew how to get the message across to the blue-collar dems in the south of the district. Hmmm. Why is it better to elect someone who compromises my principles in order to get elected and stay in office rather than the republican who openly disagrees with my principles? The end result is the same: my principles get swept aside and ignored. But, Bigfella looked adorable in his new Ergo carrier (thanks jennimac for giving me the justification to spend the $$$) and his cute little t-shirt that said, "If I could vote, I'd vote democrat." Brainwashing begins early, eh?

We also attended the elected officials reception hosted by the local chapter of the GLBT-rights group. Again, Bigfella looked smashing in his khaki shorts and golf shirt, though he spent little time in the Ergo, since Grandma and both moms were there, along with a host of Grandma's political friends. Bigfella was passed from hand to hand, and the politicians couldn't help themselves, and had to pose for pictures with the lesbians' cute baby.

Then, this morning, we headed over to our firehouse, and got his new carseat installed Bigfella is officially out of the baby bucket, measuring in at 25.75 inches. He now rolls in a Britax Roundabout. (and, looks like a prince in his throne, I must admit). He fell asleep in the three minutes it took to drive from the firehouse back home. He woke up as soon as I lifted him out of his seat and shifted him into my arms. Our days of using the car as a baby-soothing machine to induce napping are over. However, because the Roundabout doesn't require the same clearance between the back of the carseat and the back of the car seat (see the difference? see the importance of proper spacing?) he is now properly ensconced in the center of the back seat, rather than behind the passenger seat. And, the front passenger seat can once again be used to hold a passenger, rather than being pushed up to the dashboard to make room for Bigfella's Snugride. Dyke Two and I can once again travel sitting next to each other in the front seat, rather than in the weird configuration of boobmom in back, burpmom in front. Dyke Two always said she felt like Morgan Freeman in Driving Miss Daisy when she drove the family around like that. I think Bigfella's napping is a small price to pay for not only improved side-crash safety but also racial equality and family harmony.

The carseat installation man told me to keep him rear-facing until he is at least 18 months or 30 pounds. How much you want to bet he hits 30 pounds long before August 16, 2007? I'm crossing my fingers that he doesn't hit 30 pounds before his first birthday. Forget about making it to 18 months.