Back-seat driver

No longer must Jacob look at where we've been, forced to talk to himself as he stares at the rear window.

Now he is a forward-facing toddler.

He clocked in at 19 pounds at his 1-year checkup -- a pound shy of the minimum recommendation to face forward. We decided to turn him around anyway. His legs were pressing against the Corolla seatback in the smaller carseat, and besides, we figured a pound won't make a difference.

It's a lot easier for us to tend to his needs when we can see what he's up to and we don't have to reach over the back of the seat to get to him. Plus, it's more fun for Jacob.

He loves having the ability to see us all the time. That's good for him, but bad for us. If we're not giving him attention, he knows what he needs to do to change that.

A week ago he was screaming nonstop. It was one of those annoying, albeit happy, high-pitch screams. I often wonder while eating dinner at a crowded restaurant which is more annoying: incessant, shrill crying or joyous screaming. Anyway, the screeching was so piercing that we were forced to turn around to tell him to stop. Played us like a fiddle. That's exactly what he wanted us to do.

Every time one of us turns around, Jacob would flash a sly grin. It looks similar to a ventriloquist's dummy. His head is cocked slightly to the side, his mouth open just enough to show his gap-tooth pearly whites and his eyes shift between Erin and me.

It's hard to get mad at that face, and he knows it.


Jacob loves facing forward, like a big boy, with his friend, Emerson.

He loves falling asleep now with the wind blowing through his hair...


Dolly, too, loves facing forward.