Bye Bye High Chair

Little Brother is growing up too fast.

He's also a little strong-willed. (Not that he takes after either Mom-E or me. Nope. Not at all.)

Almost from the outset of his days in the high chair, he pretty much REFUSED to wear bibs. Apparently he thought they made an inappropriate fashion statement, and he preferred the more mature look of yogurt in your hair.

He also quickly reached a point where he REFUSED to let us feed him. He must've been thinking, "I don't care if I can't use a spoon or a straw yet. I'm a big boy and I'll do it myself, thanks. I also don't care if I end up wearing most of my food on my outfits, because they magically appear clean in my closet."

And now, his high chair days are over, too.

Little Brother, oh so eager to be just like his Big Brother, decided he was ready for his own seat at the dinner table.

And of course, he really isn't too thrilled about the idea of a booster seat. No, he's figured out how to pull himself up onto the regular chair, dragging his body and then sitting up.

Thoughts of falls and head CTs flash before my eyes as he giggles with pride at this accomplishment.

We have, however, had some limited success with the booster seat. The sight of milk or watermelon is usually enough to distract him for 2 minutes so that he can be buckled in to the booster seat.

And so, the other night, we sat down for our first dinner with everyone sitting at their OWN chair at the table. It was wonderful. It felt like we'd entered a new phase of life. Big Brother said the blessing sincerely without trying to eat or drink. Little Brother clasped his hands together, and then waved at me from across the table. We talked about what we wanted to do after dinner. Make paper airplanes? Go for a walk and feed the ducks? Color the driveway with sidewalk chalk.

It was a beautiful 2 minutes.

Then:
-Big Brother had to go potty.
-The dog had to go potty.
-Little Brother was tired of sitting in the booster seat and was screaming and struggling to escape.
-The phone rang.
-Big Brother returns from the potty with pants still around his ankles.
-Big Brother decided that running around half-naked was more fun than eating.

You know, just the usual family stuff that happens on an (almost) nightly basis.

Oh, the joys of parenthood are counted and enjoyed in moments
(because if you wait another few seconds, things are apt to break out into complete pandaemonium.)

Here's to that joyous chaos,
Busy-Dad-E