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Keekaroo Height Right High Chair with Tray, Mahogany

You can't outgrow the Keekaroo High Chair! Keekaroo's wooden high chair offers the safe seat your child needs during mealtime. The High Chair is ideal for children aged 6 months to 250 lbs. The High Chair includes a wooden tray with BPA-Free plastic.Features included in the High Chair are the depth adjustable seat and footplate and height adjustable seat and foot plate. The ergonomic design of the backrest allows for a comfortable seating position. The BPA-Free plastic tray cover is dishwasher safe.Features:JPMA CertifiedEating Tray and Dishwasher Safe Tray Cover IncludedAvailable in Natural or Mahogany wood colorAdjustable Foot and Seat Plate allows chair to seat from 6 months up to 250 lb.Cloth Cushion seating includedIn MahoganySpecifications:Recommended for children 6 months and up18Dimensions: 24 H x 34 D x 20 WWeight: 19 lbsDoes not contain leadWash with soap and warm water-wipe dry

“A Little Tale”…

On a beautiful Spring morning when the sun was shining in the Enchanted Woods, a young tiny little bird finished building her first nest on a worn blue chair situated in the backyard garden that belonged to either a fairy or wizard. To her, the chair seemed like the perfect place for a cradle for her babies. Her babies’ nest would be flat so that the eggs would not roll off and crack and the high back of the old chair would serve as a protection from both predators and winds cleansing the earth of winter’s debris.

On the bottom, she had carefully laid soft beautiful feathers on top of leaves to form a base to keep her babies warm and dry, in case of rain, and also to cushion the chair’s hardness. And, she also placed feathers on the back of the chair for further protection. Then, instinctively, she weaved a nest of just the right things she found in the woods such as twigs, grasses, and other items to create her babies’ perfect cradle.

Building her first nest was very hard work and very tiring. The tiny little bird could only carry a small amount in her little beak so she had to fly back and forth, to and fro, here and there, and up and down many times to complete it. Being almost a baby herself, her beak’s strength, as well as her entire little body’s, were not yet what they would be next year and the year after that.

When she was almost finished, she examined her work of art. She twittered and circled around it, singing and chirping with glee. She then decided she had to make one more trip and then it would be ready for her eggs. So, off she flew to bring back that one last finishing piece.

While she was gone, the owner of the old blue chair, a fairy with long blonde silky hair, happened upon the newly created nest on her chair amidst her butterfly garden.

She was filled with delight and exclaimed, “A nest! A nest in my enchanted garden at my enchanted cottage! How lucky can a fairy get?” Carefully and keeping her distance, she examined the new nest. It looked soft and safe, but a bit, well, drab. Of course, it had to blend in with its surroundings and nature so predators would not snatch the little family that soon would be living there, but … still. Little baby birds were going to be laid there, hatch, and grow in that cozy nest on “her” old chair.

It had to be spruced up and made special. So, the fairy ran back to her enchanted cottage, cut a blossoming branch from one of her inside plants, infused it with fairy magic so the blossoms would remain and not wither and die, and then placed the sprig on the back corner of the nest. Standing back and looking at it, she clapped her hands with delight. “Why that old chair never looked as beautiful as it does now!” Then, she ran back to her enchanted cottage, quite pleased with her own handiwork, so that the little mother bird would not see her and be frightened away.

As she was running home, she turned back and looked once again at the old chair with the new nest and the beautiful sprig of blossoms she had placed there and thought, “Just wait until the little Mommy bird returns and sees the flowers. I just know she will be delighted!”
~ Marsha J. West, Author

(Note: This original “A Little Tale” is my original idea and story. It is my property, belongs to me, and cannot be copied, reproduced or used in any medium.)

Sold.

Verrrrrryy old.. 7th grade maybe?

Well, the animals laugh from the dark of the wilderness.
A baby cries hard in an apartment complex,
as I pass in a car buried under the influence.
The city's driving me out of my mind.
I've seen a child is caught in the sad trap of gravity.
He falls from the lowest branch of the apple tree
and lands in the grass and weeps for his dignity.
Next time he will not aim so high.
Yeah, next time, neither will I.
Now a mother takes loans out, sends her kids off to colleges.
Her family's reduced to names on a shopping list.
While, a coroner kneels beneath a great, wooden crucifix.
He knows there's worse things than being alone.
And so I've learned to retreat at the first sign of danger.
I mean, why wait around, if it's just to surrender?
An ambition, I've found, can lead only to failure.
I do not read the reviews.
No, I am not singing for you.
Well I stood dropping a coin into the pit of a well.
And I would throw my whole billfold if I thought it would help.
With all these wishes I make,
I should buy something real, at least a telephone call home.
Well, my teachers, they built this retaining wall of memory,
all those multiple choices I answered so quickly.
And got my grades back and forgot just as easily,
but as least I got an A.
And so I don't have them to blame.
Well I should stop pointing fingers;
reserve my judgment of all those public action figures,
the cowboy presidents.
So loud behind the bullhorn, so proud they can't admit
when they've made a mistake.
While poison ink spews from a speechwriter's pen,
he knows he don't have to say it,
so it, it don't bother him.
"Honesty", "Accuracy" is just "Popular Opinion."
And the approval rating's high,
and so someone's gonna die.
Well ABC, NBC, CBS: Bullshit.
They give us fact or fiction? I guess an even split.
And each new act of war is tonight's entertainment.
We're still the pawns in their game.
As they take eye for an eye until no one can see,
we must stumble blindly forward, repeating history.
Well, I guess we all fit into your slogan
on the fast food marquee:
Red blooded, White skinned oh and the Blues.
Oh and the Blues, I got the Blues! That's me! That's me!
Well, I awoke in relief.
My sheets and tubes were all tangled weak from whiskey and pills,
in a Chicago hospital.
And my father was there, in a chair, by the window, staring so far away.
I tried talking, just whispered, "...so sorry...so selfish..."
He stopped me and said, "Child I love you regardless
and there's nothing you could do that would ever change this.
I'm not angry. It happens. But you just can't do it again."
So now I try to keep up, I've been exchanging my currency.
While a million objects pass through my periphery.
Now I'm rubbing my eyes 'cause they're starting to bother me.
I've been staring too long at the screen.
But where was it when I first heard a sweet sound of humility?
It came to my ears in the goddamn loveliest melody.
How grateful I was then to be part of the mystery,
to love and to be loved. Let's just hope that is enough.