Strapped rhymes with trapped

Luca’s been discovering what it means to be “strapped”. And he hates it.

 

We got him a cool stroller. As his grandpa teased us a few days ago “buy it now, else Luca will be walking before you get it”.   We think it rocks.  It’s like a deluxe mini car. It’s a shiny red vehicle with 20’ wheels, a hand and a foot break, adjustable handles, easy clip on-clip off abilities.  We chose it mainly because we can flip Luca facing the road or facing us. He has a special, soft insert because he’s still too short (not too light J).  We’re not sure Luca cares, but we do.

 

Putting Luca in his stroller is an impossible mission.  The first day he tried it, he enjoyed being able to look around, with a much better view than when he had to lie down in his bassinet.  But now he just seems upset about being strapped in his vehicle.  To try tricking him, we carry him around until we’re really outside.  Then we slide him in his coat, hat and finally the harness.  By the time he’s strapped, he’s so upset he’s screaming with his cheeks red and hard.  In all fairness, whether in his stroller or the car seat, he’s strapped as if he was ready to take off in a rocket to Mars.

 

His astronaut training has also included in some tummy time, and for the first time this week Luca seems to have gotten comfortable with the idea of lying on his round belly. He finally understood that he can bring his arms and hands under his head and use them to straighten his head, which makes the exercise much easier.  After a few minutes have gone by, he gets tired, lowers his head down to his hand and sucks in a few fingers.  Bliss.

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