google.com, pub-4909507274277725, DIRECT, f08c47fec0942fa0 Slapinions: A Minor Milestone in the Slapinions Home

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Sunday, July 15, 2012

A Minor Milestone in the Slapinions Home

On June 26th I posted the following tidbit on Facebook:


A milestone reached today with the kids, the 2nd event in less than a week to reduce me to a depressive mess. It is not fair. When the youngest gets too old for something, it is time to make a new kid . . . but no new models for 5 years :(


What was this milestone? This:


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Moments before Lisa had announced the removal of our footstool from the bathroom. I balked - clearly Ginger wasn't old enough to reach the faucet without it. Lisa promptly rounded up the lil' one and proved me wrong. 


:(


It's bad enough that my youngest is growing up waaaay too fast, but her milestone meant the end of an era. The footstool was one I remember fondly from our old house on Windlake Ave (circa mid to late '70's) and it has served all four of my children well. Until that day. 


Here's a picture of the stool. You'll have to excuse the stuck on Pokemon cards Smiley left on our table that day. I assure you, they aren't a normal part of our decor. 


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Yes, I know it looks like dung in its current state. But when new, oh so many decades ago, it was lime green and featured a white line drawing of a lamb leaping through a field of flowers. Sadly the lamb lost his top half many moons ago, long before my kids inherited it. 


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What I always felt was neat about it was that in addition to being a footstool it instantly converted to a toddler sized chair, one that's supported the behinds of two generations of Slapinons. 

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So, my little one isn't so little anymore, and a battered but beloved icon of our time as parents is going into storage. Someday, Lisa claims, we'll take it out , restore Lamby to his proper dimensions, paint the whole thing, and let our Grandkids use it. 


I hope that comes to pass :)






1 comment:

Fred Oftencold said...

I've said for many years that parents are amazingly brave creatures.

They pour all that love into people who are disappearing, or at least metamorphosing daily before their eyes.