I was wandering around the house I grew up in - diapered, of course - and I found my old high chair.
When I saw it a hundred fantasies I've had replayed in my head. It's like that high chair is a portal to another time and place, a different headspace. As if, if I could jussst squeeze my fat ass into that seat and pull the tray into locking position, I could ride it like a time warp to the years I so often dream of going back to.
Side note: can you tell we were really, really poor?
No comments:
Post a Comment