A Place at the Table

Colin, as of yesterday evening, has a high chair. The high chair that the Best Nephew Ever has (and is still using, darn it) is really a lovely thing, but its price kept it reserved for a dual income household.We debated for months over which one to register for and finally picked one that we didn’t like, thinking that we’d take it back if we got it as a gift. As though our friends and family knew that we hadn’t really made up our minds, no one gave it to us. We were relieved that we would never have to explain to anyone why we were using a different chair than the one they had gifted to us and put the decision off to deal with later.

Then, suddenly, it was later. We were staring rice cereal and solid foods in the face and Colin had no place to sit but the bouncy seat on the floor or my lap. We dreaded looking at all the stupid plastic chairs with the three digit prices again, but decided to peruse the Target baby section the next time we were there. As it happened, that was the next day – as it always is, since one cannot survive more than two days away from Target.

And so we looked through the options, declaring that the whole high chair industry was committed to making huge, ugly, obnoxious pieces of “furniture” that barely passed as functional. The whole lot was obtrusive and… well, you get the idea. Before renewing the search for a chair, Patrick and I had come to the sad conclusion that we didn’t want to spend a fortune on the chair and, thus, were going to have to settle for a stupid looking one. Resigned to our fate, we looked at the choices as a man on death row looks at his final dinner menu. The prevailing attitude was to just pick something and get it over with.

(Note: Before you get your hopes too high, there isn’t a miraculous ending to this story. Don’t look for miracles in the high chair aisles; there are none to be found.)

There was one model, however, which was slightly less awful than the rest. It was one designed to be more portable and, to that end, straps onto a chair instead of being a freestanding item. We looked at it and it seemed to have all the same qualities of the other chairs: plastic, ugly, tilting tray, angling seat, plastic cushion liner, etc. The only things it didn’t have were legs of its own and an exorbitant price. We talked it over briefly and decided to go for it.

Of course, there were none in stock. Why would there be? It was shortly after Christmas and, apparently, high chairs were in high demand for the trendy infant this year. Any in the back? No, sorry. How about the other store? No. Of course not. Website? Sorry, check back later.

Sure.

Weeks go by. We check occasionally, but have nearly given up the fight for a high chair and consider getting an expensive(-er), stupid one. Then (cue chorus of angels – or maybe middle school boys) the last time we were there, they had one! Joy! So we snatched it up and took it home.

Colin starts rice cereal in a week or so. He’s so ready for it.


He'll grow into it, surely.