highchair 365/100 - #100- bidding adieu to a family friend

Compilation Sunday: (that special time of week when picture and prose become as one.)

Sadly, (0r not so sadly depending on the moment) the time has come to bid adieu to a close member of the family. While this au revoir doesn't have quite the same feel as a graveside memorial, there is bit of a sense of nostalgia and melancholy mixed together in this reminiscing souffle.

Today the C-Dawg has moved up in the world to a booster and has occupied his preordained spot at the foot of the table, directly across from his old man, thus completing our little sextet surrounding the Hiemstra dinner table. With Carter's move to cutlery and table-side dining and the inevitable spills and splatters that will accompany such a move, Team Hiemstra offers a fond farewell to the high chair which has been a vital part of the family for the better part of 7 years. In the festive spirit of Compilation Sunday, we offer these words of tribute to one of the last vestiges of babyhood.

To the Hiemstra High Chair:
Back in the infancy of the W.'s presidency and the early ages of Team Hiemstra, you were but an abandoned and forlorn clearance special at Babies R Us. We rescued you from the cold, inventorial feel of the natal superstore and brought you home with us, a real live family that you could enjoy and become a part of. And become a part of us you did. By our count you've been a part of roughly 5,000 meals, being the sitting post for each of the Team Hiemstra children, as well as the Hiemstra parents on those special, weirder than a three-dollar bills times. (Please don't ask. Just nod your head and smile.)

You've seen the family at its best, laughing with ferocity until the tears trickled down our cheeks, enjoying the sumptous meals Carla's blessed the Team with for nearly a decade. You've been privy to both the most intelligent and the most asinine of conversations You've drawn a listening ear to the words just as they've begun to form in the minds and mouths of the growing toddlers of our family. You've been a solid and stable supporter, never crumbling under the pressure of growing children, never talking back, but rather lurking in silence and inconspicuousness.

You've also seen the family at its worst. You've had a front row seat for the battle of wills, the tussles with iron-willed baby tongues, pledged to push out anything with the semblance of something healthy or green. You've heard the arguments, the frustrations of a young family, the cries of anguish over yet another spilled cup of milk. And though you may have had your own strong emotions over such explosive moments, you've kept them to yourself.

And thus, as we bid you adieu and you end up in some delightful, memorial landfill, we do so with mixed emotions. There is sadness in knowing that the baby stage is over and we're moving on to the next stage of life, yet there's joy in knowing that the toxic two-month old meatloaf which has simmered and festired and bloomed with all sorts of bacteria shall find its final resting place away from the kitchen where our food is prepared.

Good-bye and farewell.