Let those who've never driven for 10 minutes without realizing that the back door of the car is open and the kid's car seat is missing cast the first stone, I say.
Everyone has some parenthood story that makes them wince, right? Once I left the front door to the house open, and Daughter went out, got on a plane and left for Brazil, and we haven't seen her since.
Granted, she was 18, and we drove her to the airport, but there are days I still kick myself about it.
Anyhow, here are some random thoughts about the toddler who fell out of a car in Mankato.
No. 1: The obligatory sneer of the Scoffing Boomer, that lovable old coot who had it rougher than these lame kids today.
"Why, when I was a kid, there was none of this roping down Junior like, what was that guy in the 'Silent Lamb' movie, Cannibal Licker? Hannibal Lecturer? You know the guy. That's what they do to kids these days.
"Anyway, we sat in the front seat, no belts, and Dad drove with one hand on the wheel because the other had to be free for smoking, and I'd be looking right at the dashboard, which was a sharp piece of creased sheet metal covered with nothin' but paint. If he braked sharply: Wham! Right into the ol' dashboard. Eventually (fingers a thick line of scar tissue by the hairline) you learned to keep your hands out at all times. Sure, I got my bell rung from time to time, but it hidn't durt me or do no dasting lamage."
Thank you, Scoffing Boomer. I remember those days, as well. Even after seat belts were mandated, my primary safety device was my mother's forearm. If she had to stop quickly, her arm would shoot out at sternum level to keep me from genuflecting to the dashboard.