We decided that, with five days to go before my due date, we should probably check that the babyseat would fit in the new car.
How it should look
I was apprehensive cos Rod had already flung his PS3 controller at the wall in a fit of pique this morning. Occasionally his temper gets the better of him so as he unpacked the carseat I warned him to read the instructions and be gentle.
Fifteen minutes later I went outside to check his progress.
“I’m not happy about this,” he said, shoogling the seat violently.
He was right, it was slipping all over the leather and didn’t look secure at all. But one side of the carseat seemed to be moving a lot more than the other.
“Why is…” I peeled back the cover to find the, albeit polystyrene, wing had snapped clear of the plastic.
“You broke it,” I accused. “You lost your temper and you f*ing broke it.”
I stomped inside, then stomped out through the back and stood taking deep breaths in the garden trying not to cry. I’ve been very stressed lately and this could have pushed me over the edge. But I realised we still had time, we’d just need to go to the Pram Centre today and buy a new one. And get it fitted, which we should have done in the first place, except we bought the pram travel system before we bought the car.
When I stepped back into the kitchen Rod was on the phone. He was arranging to take back a ‘faulty carseat’ and evidently they were being very helpful because he wasn’t in the middle of breaking anything.
Sheepishly he turned to me and asked if I’d like to be dropped off at Mum’s while he dealt with this.
“I’d rather come with you.”
Fitted properly with a seat grip
We drove to the Pram Centre in silence – until an idiot in an Audi TT cut me up and we bonded in our swearing at a common enemy. It softened the atmosphere. Then there were the fantastic staff at the Pram Centre. The woman at the service desk agreed the carseat was faulty and arranged a replacement (which they luckily had in stock) within five minutes. Another girl, called Nicky, came out with us to the car to fit it. She wasn’t happy with it on the side with two plugs, so moved it to the side with one plug (diagonally opposite the driver) and then called out her supervisor to double check. The supervisor checked it thoroughly, gave the belt plenty of good tugs and advised a seat grip for added security. It cost £10 – a hell of a lot less than an iso-fix system or a new carseat – and made that little bit of difference that set our minds at rest.
As we drove home, relieved and back on speaking terms, Rod tapped out an email to the Pram Centre manager on his iPhone, with the subject ‘Superb customer service’. He read it out to me and I couldn’t help but grin at his final line:
“We’ve gone from wanting to murder each other to being back in love – isn’t that great?”