Wasn’t it just the other day that I was telling you how our desire to be perfect parents led us to the police station? Well, I have another car seat-related story. When I had Ada Verastic, we were told that she was tall. I didn’t know what that meant at that time, and right now, I don’t remember how many inches she was exactly, but after she was weighed and measured, it was made very clear to us that she was tall.
By our second or third doctor’s visit, we were told that her height was in the 90th percentile, which meant that she was taller than 90% of babies her age. I did not think of it again until Ada Verastic turned one and was standing next to a baby who was a week younger than her and the height difference was very noticeable. Then it’s been happening since then with curious strangers asking me if she’s two years old. Nope. She had just turned one at that time. At her last doctor’s visit, she was measured to be in the 95th percentile. Yes, she is now taller than 95% of babies her age.
Today, she turned 17 months, and we are shopping for a convertible car seat. Let’s pause for a second. Remember in a previous post I mentioned how I have a hard time making even the smallest decisions? And remember how it took me months to pick an infant car seat? Well, it’s happening all over again. I’ve been reading reviews and going back and forth trying to find a good convertible car seat. Help me!
Unpause. The reason why we need a convertible car seat is because Ada Verastic is taller than we had planned. Although she has not reached the weight limit of her current car seat, she has certainly reached the height limit. We don’t carry her in her car seat anymore unless she’s in the car.
The irony is that neither I nor Igwe is tall. Her grandma, Yeere, Igwe’s mom is about 5’10,” but I think her height might be coming from either one of my not-tall parents who think that they are all. Although in reality, my mommy is 5’2,” her American driver’s license says otherwise. It says she’s 5’11.” I assume that the person who at the MVA did not tell my mommy to stand up to prove her height. My daddy, on the other hand, believes that he’s tall, but that his fat is what is blocking his glory. Errr, doesn’t work that way, daddy. The only other source of Ada Verastic’s height is God’s interesting sense of humor. My wallet isn’t finding it funny, but my heart is smiling. And grateful.