One afternoon, four years ago we sat down for lunch, Christian picked up baby Claire and stuffed her in her highchair. Her chubby legs tangled up in the strap that is attached to the chair for safety purposes. In his frustration (and added hunger-he NEVER does well when he is hungry) took off the strap that was attached to Claire’s highchair.
“Why do we need this? Claire never stands up in her chair, it just plain annoying”.
Then the next thing I knew, he had his leatherman XJ 5000 out and cut it off the strap as if he was slitting a throat. It’s true, I thought, we never DO actually use the strap. No big deal.
I wish that I could have foreseen the day (4 years later) complete with Oliver standing up, feet dangerously close to the edge of the table in his chair and face slathered with applesauce. Screaming.
He has not fallen…. yet, but it will happen and I don’t want to see it.
I think I did what any suitable mother would do, go into my closet and find my best pair of pink Old Navy chinos rip the cheap $1 belt that was so delicately sewn into the pant and use it to strap down ma son. “That should hold em”
I said out loud as I was dishing up corn chowder the other night. Everyone starred at Oliver as he twisted and pulled his body trying to stand up. I laughed inside my head as if revenge finally called back.
Then I scooped up a spoonful of chowder and plopped it right in front of his face.