I recently said goodbye to my sons’ highchair with a tinge of genuine sadness. Its passing marks the end of an enjoyable era during which it has been a constant dependable presence in our house. It has no decorative features, no cute furnishing and it has offered our family quiet, uncomplaining service like a reserved Edwardian butler. I probably shouldn’t be so maudlin over a plastic item bought for £12 from IKEA, but it has provided a safe haven for my children for the past four years.
In truth by the end it wasn’t a chair at all, more a high-diving platform for the Minor, scrambling out of his seat. And so it was forced into retirement. I wiped off the last of felt-tip graffiti from its back, dismembered it and stored in the loft for use by some unborn niece or nephew. I know that there’ll be other comrades that fall along the way, but not many that I cherish as much as the chair. In fact there are some bits of parenting paraphernalia that I’ll be very glad to be rid of.
Very obviously I long for the day that nappies are not required. We flirted for a while with a specially-designed nappy bin. When I say ‘flirted’ I mean we used one for a bit, we didn’t ask it if it had done something different with its hair and buy it a Crunchie. But the bin became a source of great horror to me, knowing the evil that was building up within. When it came to opening it there was always a fear that the wafting fumes would melt my face like the Nazi shits at the end of Indiana Jones. The internal mechanism creates a chain of soiled nappies, the inspiration for which may have been a sausage. A sausage is also full of crap coincidentally.
I’ve also had some run-ins with bottles over the years. There’s a make of bottle with a teat apparently formed like a lady’s nipple, to simulate the mother’s breast and put the baby at ease. Now I’ve seen a lot of nipples in my time (mainly on the internet) and I’ve never seen one shaped like this. I am irritated by this teat because it only works one way up, so when my son and I are flailing about in the pitch black of night then he can waste hours of valuable sleep-time slurping away fruitlessly.
There’s another manufactured by a company called Avent that includes an inner ring sat between the bottle and the teat. I Avent a clue what purpose this ring serves (sorry that should have come with a warning), but without it the bottle is rendered useless, except for creating a vicious milk-tsunami into my son’s face. You wouldn’t get that with an IKEA highchair.