cars are a little less evil than they used to be

Tonight we took a quick trip to Whole Foods (for some bread) and Borders (for some books, since man doesn't live by bread alone). Nothing unusual in that, except that ever since Anastasia was born we've avoided driving anywhere whenever possible--even more than we usually avoid driving, I mean--because she hates the car. She screams and arches her back when I put her in the carseat, and she cries most of the time while we're driving. Sometimes she quiets for a little while the car is moving, but every time we stop at a red light, she bursts out again. Sometimes she doesn't cry until after the drive has lasted for longer than ten or fifteen minutes, but usually at the very least she bursts into inconsolable tears just before we arrive wherever we're going.

The much-dreaded drive to and from Virginia last week, however, was not as bad as I'd feared. At least, it improved considerably once I discovered that I could nurse her in the carseat while Matt was driving. She still cried about it, though, and even though we drove every day last week--it just isn't possible to get anywhere from Matt's parents' house without driving--she didn't really get any better about it.

But tonight, we drove to Whole Foods and back--a ten-minute drive each way--without a single cry. Not a single tear. Not even a complaint. Anastasia sat happily in her carseat without fuss when I put her in, no protest at all. She let me buckle her without complaining, and she smiled and cooed at me the whole way there. Even though she was tired on the way back (it was after her 8:00 bedtime), she comforted herself by chewing and sucking on fingers (both hers and mine) and looked up at me with her big eyes and a questioning expression, as if to say, I can go to bed soon, right mommy?--and didn't cry at all.