Great Scott!

Denise Scott searches for a highchair until one finds her.

This month I discovered a highchair on our front porch. I have no idea who left it there but I’m very grateful. The thing is, my eight-month-old grandson Lenny loves his food. He eats everything. For the love of God he even enjoys mashed parsnip without salt. Clearly he takes after his Grandpa John, who when I first met him was affectionately known in his share house as ‘Compost Bucket’. What Lenny needed was a highchair at his grandparents’ house. And so Lenny and I went to one of those giant baby retail outlets – the sort of place that induce complete nervous breakdowns! So many highchairs that do so many things! One had a seat that rotated 360 degrees. As the saleswoman enthused:

“Isn’t that genius?” Not quite the word I’d use to describe a highchair where you feed your child and then send them spinning while they projectile vomit. There was the Scandi-inspired design with a five-position reclining backrest. The saleswoman insisted Lenny try it. She strapped him in and cooed: “Are you having a good time, little man?” The fact Lenny’s expression was reminiscent of someone about to undergo root canal work suggested he wasn’t. The pièce de résistance was the highchair that: “Is fully adjustable so a child can be seated safely from six months to teenage years ...” which begged the question, “What teenager …?” Needless to say we left the store highchair-less. Two days later, voila! There was the highchair on our porch. So if you are the anonymous donor, please know Lenny loves it. And yes, we’ll hang onto it until he’s at least 15 … you never know.