I was not prepared for this. It was always a thought in the back of my mind that this would happen eventually, but I did not prepare for how I would feel, how emotional I would get about something so simple. My son didn’t even give it a second thought. He just gave up his high chair like it was some random chair at a restaurant. That high chair was a big part of our last two years with our son. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t tearing up a bit while writing this. His high chair refusal has thrown me for a loop. Maybe I’m PMSing. Or perhaps I have a strong emotional connection to an inanimate object. It could go either way.
I remember when we registered for this high chair. Wait, let me rephrase that. I remember when I registered for this high chair. With all the things I do in our lives, I over thought it. My husband did not mind what chair we got, as long as it was sturdy and our son could sit in it. I believe those were his exact words, said with a shrug and a smile. Comparisons went on for days, online and in the store until I decided to register for the Phil & Teds Poppy high chair. When we received it, I squealed. We were going to watch our son grow up and sit in this chair for most of his meals. I was pumped. My husband was indifferent.
People who saw the chair would compliment its style and simplicity, and I would think, I know. I made the right choice. My husband would tell me how easy it is to clean and I would say to him smugly that yes, I am a genius, you don’t even have to tell me. I bragged about it to my pregnant friends and coworkers and recommended it to anyone who would listen. I still do. But now, it is just the “time-out chair,” sitting silently in the corner, waiting for a bad-tempered toddler instead of a little hungry baby.
We fed him his first bowls of rice cereal in this chair. He spoke his first words in this chair, and eventually, he strung words together to make sentences. He ate bananas in this chair every morning for breakfast last summer before I wrestled sunscreen on him. He went through the fun throwing-everything-in-his-hand-on-the-floor-while-laughing phase in this chair. He sang songs and danced in this chair. We handled hangry meltdowns in this chair.
And now all of a sudden, bye bye chair. Hello, booster chair. I barely know the booster chair we got. It isn’t the high chair. My husband bought the booster chair, so I feel zero connection. All I know is its sturdy, and our son can sit in it.
