My Ben is eleven months. In the last almost a year, I have bought him more of one thing than anything else, by far. Clothes or toys? No. They don’t last. Ice cream? He is too young for that.
Chairs. I have bought him three chairs and am now making him one. What is that about?
My daughter has taken a picture of Ben with his turquoise chair for each of his eleven months. It is a theme in the pictures, a sub-plot.
Stuff happens behind the chair, as here. This chair was a shower gift. To me, it is a beautiful and sweet piece of sculpture. I fantasize about him being big enough to sit in it.
Last summer I bought this little metal outside chair. It is sweet, but it would be perfect if it matched all the others around here.
Have had no such luck with that. Have never even seen a child’s 1940-50s metal lawn chair for sale, although I am sure they exist.
Then I bought the old wooden rocker for him. He knew exactly what to do with it. The size is perfect.
Ben uses Gee’s sixty year old stroller when he is here. It is not Ben’s however, it is a piece of sculpture located in our bedroom when not being used by him.
Now I am making him a chair that he will never be able to use. Dangerous. Cannot figure out where this stuff comes from.