I’m wrapping up this Tales from the 5th Grade series with some thoughts on sharing the front seat. From that dreaded rear-facing carrier to resisting the booster seat, every phase signals a child’s growth, maturity, and relative independence.
Now I’m facing the ultimate automotive accord – sharing the front seat with my kid.
My 5th grader is clamoring to ride in the front seat of my car. As easy as it would be to allow him to move up front, I’m resisting. I’m resisting for a number of reasons. First, the great State of Texas recommends keeping children safely seated in the back until age 13. Even at average height and weight for his age, my son has only recently started riding without a booster (but don’t mention it his friends…). I always tell the kids that keeping them safe is our number one priority as parents, and I’m standing strong with this reasoning in the front seat debate. I know that my vehicle is equipped with the appropriate features to secure my little man, but I still get nervous about lazy seat belt use and air bag malfunction.
Second, the move to the front seat means I give up my personal space. And I don’t just mean breathing room. It’s the place I always put my purse and the other sundries I collect throughout the day (library books, water bottles, yoga mat… you know the drill). I often joke that my car is my office, and I’m not selling that prime real estate cheaply. Co-pilot training may be necessary. At a minimum, he’ll need to learn to juggle the dinner take-out bags with a wet umbrella under his feet. It could take months to devise the proper training protocols; meantime the 5th grader will need to stay comfortably in the back seat with his sister and all that extra floor space.
The thing is that moving to the front seat is more than just moving to the front seat; it’s a metaphor for larger life transitions. It represents acknowledgement that my 5th grader is big enough to sit up front – in his life and in the car. It’s giving him permission to be within arm’s reach of the radio controls. It’s surrendering my personal-space passenger seat to this sweet man-boy (and resisting the urge to throw my arm in front of him when I slam on the brakes). He’s going to middle school next year. Middle school! I feel like it was just yesterday I buckled him into a five-point harness and glanced the crazy infant mirror more often than I checked the rear-view. Now I have to consider him sitting next to me in the front seat, navigating his life’s roadmap while riding side-by-side.