Out of Hiding

When I was pregnant, I stumbled upon an amazing vintage high chair, which Husband lovingly calls, "The Death Trap."  It is red, it is beautiful, it is retro, and it lacks any modern safety standards.  And honestly, that is almost the best combination of characteristics for anything baby-related, am I right?

All of the buying planets aligned and the stars started shining and angels starting singing and it was only $30 and my grandma offered to pay.  In other words, we snatched that high chair up without a second thought.  (And here is where I add that it is in perfect condition.  It is in perfect condition!)  Since that fateful day, it has patiently waited, folded up and alone, in the back of Clara's closet, for the day when its owner could sit well enough to avoid slumping over and getting a face full of metal.

The moment has arrived.

And the first-food-in-the-high-chair initiation?

Avocado.