I pledge Allegiance...

to the Bumbo seat.*

Here's to being a bad Mom; I love the bumbo seat, nay love is too common a word for the intense affection I feel for this present-day miracle worker. I know, I know. It's a safety hazard to infants everywhere. Don't I know it's been recalled? I suppose if anyone wants to liken my love for Andrew with my refusal to ban the bumbo, I will come out stinking like the Narcissus ('fragrant', my foot- have you ever smelled one? The stench is by no means pleasant, as implied by use of the word 'fragrant' in it's package description.) But, I digress.

The point is, there are moments or things which we cannot remember a time before. Husbands. Children. Owning a home. Domestic slavery. Etc. Such is true of the Bumbo.

Andrew, by the time he is steady enough to graduate from it's soft, yet simultaneously firm, azure embrace, will probably have a bumbo shaped bum for years to come. By that time, we will likely have to use the jaws of life to extricate him from it (I swear we could write 'Gone with the Wind II" by the time he's a stabile sitter.)

Until that time, I am savoring it's existence in my heretofore unpriveleged world. To all the bumboless, save yourself many futile moments daydreaming of growing additional arms. Think of the expense saved: bumbo seat- $40. new wardrobe to accomodate new arms- $700 (this is a custom wardrobe we're talking about here). Countless mutually satisfied moments (yours, your baby's, and anyone rescued from holding him/her whilst attempting another task)- priceless.

And to the bumbo have's, welcome to a bright new future: just you and your bumbo (and your baby).

*Caution: Since they can fall out, it's best used on the ground or very closely supervised. This writer takes no responsibility for it's use, abuse, or any accident that may befall it's occupant.