I went with Leta’s 10th grade to The Franklin Institute last week. Her class has been studying the anatomy of the heart. For those not from Philadelphia, The Franklin Institute is famous for it’s larger than life organ: a maze that allows you to walk up and down the heart’s ventricles, aortas and lungs accompanied by the pulsating beats of the heart’s walls, “thump-thump, thump-thump…thump-thump,” Kids love it. Leta has always been too scared to enter. But yesterday she willingly followed her peers into the heart of, well, darkness… And it was clear she understood where we were because she kept pointing to her own heart as we climbed and descended the inner stairs. Once out, Leta was ready to roam. We ventured into the electricity room, and then into the flight and aviation exhibit. But Leta moves fast and needed more action. I tried to slow her down, but I knew where she wanted to go. We passed a really interesting National Geographic exhibit in the hallway, the 50 best Photographs ever taken, but no such luck. Leta’s focus was on finding “BALL!” Her love of soccer seemed to give her laser focus as she navigated the elevator, made a quick left, then right, then sharp left again, finding her way to the virtual goalie net on the 3rd floor Sports Zone. And never one to wait her turn, Leta barged into a group of boys already playing the game and grabbed the soccer ball away from them. Predictably, the boys scattered quickly, none of them sure what to make of the 3 foot tall tyrant with attitude.

But then I noticed that one little boy from the group did not leave. Despite his friends looks of dismay and teasing, he stayed behind. And he watched Leta kick the ball into the goal a few times. He watched her kick the ball and miss, but raise her arms in Victory anyway. And then he quietly joined in by getting her the ball each time she kicked it. And as he handed her the ball, he gently coached her on how to do it better the next time. “Kick the ball like this,” he encouraged. “Good Job,” he said, “You got two goals,” he praised the next time. I was charmed. This little boy was no older than 10 or 11, but he was clearly special in his own right. I asked him his name. He said Trevor or maybe it was Travis. I don’t remember now, but I told Leta to give him a turn, which she did a few times. And then they began to work out a rhythm of playing together. When he got a GOAL, Leta “high- fived” him, and he did the same for her. But soon, the game ended as quickly as it began. Trevor got bored and wandered off. I made a quick search of the room hoping to spot his mom. I wanted to find her and tell her how kind her son was to Leta, but I saw he was with a school group.

My youngest, Ava, was telling me the other day how much she missed our first house. She said she didn’t miss it because of the wonderful birthday parties, or the magical Christmas Day celebrations. She misses drawing at the kitchen table, catching butterflies in the backyard, and hiding in my closet during a game of hide and seek. Ava misses the little moments. We all look for the big moments in our lives. We think they define us. But I am starting to think that the smaller moments have more meaning.

Trevor’s kindness to Leta was just this; a small moment in time,easily overlooked. But maybe those are the ones worth paying attention to; the ones worth remembering.

There are some inventions that all would agree have changed the way we live our lives. None of us can imagine getting through a day without electricity, computers, the internet, cell phones, cars, TVs, GPS navigation systems, antibiotics, the microwave oven, or indoor plumbing, to name a few. These inventions allow us to be a modern civilization able to further accomplish mind blowing advances in space travel, and medicine.

But on a more mundane level, what would we do without the smaller everyday inventions like paper clips, q-tips, safety pins, plastic coffee twirlers, rubber bands, post-it notes, sandwich bags, bubble wrap, shoelaces, zippers … My survival has not depended on these inventions, of course, but they are wonderful to have at my fingertips as I stumble through my day.

But then the other day I came across a small plastic invention,retailing on Amazon at $12, $16.95 with shipping, that has become a game changer, perhaps even saved my life.

Curious right?..please keep reading.

For anyone that has or has had a precocious toddler or clever special needs child, you will nod your head in agreement that car rides are hell. Those tiny little Houdinis quickly learn how to unsnap, unbuckle or just wiggle out of most car seats on the market and there is nothing you can do to contain them while driving.

SO I am here to hawk the amazing plastic seat belt buckle guard. BECAUSE until I found it, there was not a seat belt, a buckle, a 5- point harness, a strap, a dog leash, or a human that could keep Leta in her car seat while on the road. One caveat, Leta sits in her carseat perfectly for her teachers at school or any babysitters that take her out. It is just for our family that she is a holy terror.

And as many friends and family witnessed over the years, driving with Leta was as crazy as someone saying that they were going to perform open heart surgery while knitting a sweater. You can’t do both, and you definitely cant do them both safely. Leta would unbuckle within seconds of being strapped in and would then bounce around the car throwing things, taking her clothes off, eating groceries, pulling my hair, hugging me while driving, trying to change the radio station, grabbing my phone, opening windows, or throwing things out the windows. It was not unusual on any given ride to hear crys of “Leta is biting me” or “she’s got a clump of my hair in her fist and it really hurts.” Sometimes, I would have to slam on the breaks and stop in the middle of the road just to save one of my other kids, or worse their friends, from Leta’s crazy and dangerous hair pulling, biting, pinching assaults. Usually, this would happen later in the afternoon when her behavior meds wore off or when she was hungry.

It is not an exaggeration to state that driving with Leta, since she figured out how to unbuckle her car seat at age 6, has been a death defying feat. My son, now 18, learned to drive with her in the car and before he went to get his license I checked off his 15 hours of defensive driving practice with assurance because he had maneuvered many hours of driving with one arm on the wheel, the other fending off attacks from Leta or protecting the front from flying debris; pens, wet diapers, food, lone sneakers…the usual stuff left in cars that normal families dont think twice about as dangerous cargo. Just to be clear, Jack also learned how to drive in snow and rainy conditions, but the Leta defensive driving will serve him well for any and all future surprise road encounters.

Last weekend, I had finally had it with risking my life and the other kids lives driving with Leta on the loose. And I went to Pep Boys and begged the guys to help me find a way to install a Leta proof strap. They suggested the racing car 5-point harness, but we had already tried that and I knew it wouldn’t work because half the battle is getting Leta strapped in. She hates the confinement and throws a fit complete with body contortions and eye gouging that make it impossible to win the fight unless you are willing every time to climb in the car and completely sit on her. There just had to be a better mouse trap. And so I began calling all the special needs websites. None of them were something I had not already tried until I noticed a gadget at e-Special Needs and the reviews were promising. A cheap piece of plastic, inserted over the buckle release, that blocks little fingers from releasing the strap. The only way to release it is by opening it with a car key. So I ordered it and hoped for the best. When I picked Leta up from Camphill last weekend, she climbed into her car seat, I strapped her down, started the car and watched as she went to push the red release button open. But she couldn’t do it. Her look of defeat, as she realized she had finally met her match, was priceless! And I stared her down and proclaimed, “Admit defeat my little Houdini, I win…. No more getting out of car seats for you.” She laughed. Somehow I think that the joke is on me, but for now, I actually believe that I have won the battle.