I'm Too Sexy For My Highchair

Okay, first of all, I'm going to be in SOOOO much trouble when my kids read the title of this post. "Sexy" is not a word we use in this house if you are under the age of, oh I don't know, 15. Seriously, who wants to hear a 5 year old call something sexy? Yeah, not happenin' here. Not on my watch.

So then why did I feel compelled to use it? Because that stupid song is stuck in my head and when I try to think of any other title it just doesn't work. Too bad for you I can't find the charger for my little camera or I might have tried to get video and do a music video/montage to I'm Too Sexy. Lucky, lucky you.

Who said the classics were dead?

We'll start our little tale with a typical morning, breakfast or snack, you take your pick.

Emma's eating her dry cereal from a cup sitting nicely in her high chair.

Ryan is eating his Goldfish at the island. He's had a wee bit too much paparazzi here. Give him a minute or two. He'll warm up. Oh and this is snack. I feed my kids all kinds of things for breakfast but never Goldfish. Yet. Never say never.

Emma has decided she is done with her snack so anything she's done with goes overboard onto the floor. The dogs love it. Ryan can't stand it. He has to pick it up. Goodness, I love that boy! Out of 6 kids I finally got a neat freak!!!

But once Emma's done she not only throws her food on the floor but she announces she's ready to move onto the next activity.

And she stands up in her chair and waits for her royal servants to remove her from the now offending throne. Unless she's closer to the counter. Then she tries to crawl onto it.

I'm usually close by but this was becoming dangerous. I tried to strap her in but her sensibilities couldn't handle the imprisonment. Not to mention dinner. At dinner she would sit for about 5 minutes and scream to get out and with her new mad skills, climb out. Then she would walk over to an open chair (if there was one) and climb up into it and smile the biggest smile you ever saw. No words were spoken but they weren't necessary. You knew exactly what she was thinking.

"I'm the shizzle for snizzle."

And she is.

Knowing her desperation to join the cool kids at the table, yesterday I decided to let her eat lunch on a bar stool with Ryan.

Emma is expressing her inner fashionista. We had recently come home and didn't want her hat removed. Ryan is showing some great chugging skills that should come in handy in college. But the main thing was she did well on the stool, didn't fall off, didn't even almost fall off. All in all it was a success.

So for dinner last night we decided to try the table.

And there she is, my baby girl who refused to let any type of solid food cross her plump little lips until she was 9 months, thought crawling was beneath her until at least 10 months and then drove her Uncle Kevin crazy because she did an army crawl, and didn't even consider walking until she was 15 months. This same slightly backwards girl has abandoned her high chair and is sitting at the table like a big girl, at 18 months.

This, in itself, presents a few challenges. First, I wasn't prepared for her to be sitting at the table. We tried to use Ryan's booster but he had a mini cow right there at the kitchen table so that was out of the question. (The good news is we have enough beef to last us a couple of weeks.)
So the impromptu, old fashioned remedy was phone books. Two to be precise. But that doesn't solve our other dilemma: We don't have enough chairs. There are now 7 of us sitting at the kitchen table and most tables, including ours, come with 6 chairs. Maybe the kids will come to the table quicker now. Last one to dinner has to stand. Who are we kidding? We all know it will be me. Maybe I'll actually lose some weight! Or maybe monkeys will start flying out of my...

Never mind.