As Dan says, it’s a seat on top of a seat — what’s so complicated?

I’m kidding — I know they’re extraordinarily important. But while they’re designed so even a sleep-deprived parent can latch a baby into one, they’re inscrutable to a newbie. It took the better part of 20 minutes to comprehend the basic instructions for: 1. Separating the seat from the base. 2. Installing the base (with an assist from the Honda manual to find the LATCH hooks). 3. Popping the seat in.

Your Virginia tax dollars at work!

But since I’m new at this, I’m placing my trust in the Fairfax County Police Department, which helpfully is holding a car seat inspection event two weeks before the due date.

By 9 a.m., there were six or so cars behind me as well.

At 10 minutes before the start time, I am the ninth car in line.

A word about my doing this: I’ve really been trying not to prepare for the baby’s presence in the house, based on a cultural tradition/superstition. Basically, the idea boils down to not taking anything for granted.

Personalized thank-you notes with a baby’s intended name ordered — and sent — months before said-baby is due? Not cool.

But carseats are a necessity for safety, and these inspection rodeos don’t happen every day. The rabbis of the Talmud recognized p’kuah nefesh, saving a soul, as overriding all other commandments — you’re actually commanded to disregard the rules when a life is at stake. Not preparing a nursery is a custom, minhag, so there’s no rule at play. But the idea of doing something for the purpose of safety appeals to my pragmatism.

Well, we know we have all the pieces, at least. I call that progress.

It’s the same for the crib we’ll put together soon, because it’s the safest place — the only place we’ll use — to put the baby to sleep, and I’m not expecting to be able to do it myself at two days’ postpartum.

When it was my turn, I pulled up to the inspection overhang, when an officer from the Franconia District yanked out both the seat and base — so much for trying!

The secret is in the noodles!

He grabbed a small colorful thing I later found out was a pile of pool noodles and jammed it under the base, then hooked it back up. He explained the noodles work better than the “foot” of the seatbase, which can break. I was shown how to rock the base a little, and told there should be no more than an inch of side-to-side movement. He also showed me how to lock the seat’s carry handle in multiple positions and adjust the belt for the baby.

He said he has the same seat at home, Chicco’s KeyFit 30, and that it’s very easy to use. (Thanks for making me look so smart, Consumer Reports!)

He installed the seat and showed me how to check it was in position: pull up and rock slightly. Then he said up and down movement overall is good, called “clamshelling,” because of how the seat will move in a crash. He told me I could move the passenger seat back a little, because I only need to get one hand between it and the carseat.

Other advice: 1. Don’t buy a check-the-baby mirror, because they’re not crash-tested (and it you’re watching your little darling, you ain’t watching the road). 2. If you get a sunshade for the window, get a peel-and-stick version — the rest could come off and smack the kid.

With that, I was done.

Now we’re ready to buckle up the kid-to-be.