There she sat near the road…

beckoning to me to pick her up and give her a new home. She caught my eye as we drove by the house. She was the sweetest little white chair, and she really needed a new home. I could tell. She was tired of being packed up in a hot attic or a cold basement. She longed to once again feel the warmth and the love of a little girl as she snuggled deep inside the little chairs arms. It would feel, oh so good, once again to experience the rough and tough clumsiness of a little tyke’s feet as she patiently practiced her climbing skills first onto the rounds of the chair and then up into a standing position in the middle of its' paint-chipped seat, while The Little Princess demonstrated her "Look Mommy, Me Tarzan!" stance. It might be fun, maybe just a little bit of fun,anyway to once again see the complete look of horror on the young, first-time mother’s face as she makes the mad dash across the floor in an atttempt to catch her little acrobat before she tumbles to the floor.

She missed those days. They lent an air of excitement to an otherwise dull day. She really did miss those days,and some of those little shenanigans were possibly some of the very reasons the little chair had found herself locked in the attic or basement in the first place. But,honestly, it was through no fault of her own. She had just been innocently sitting there all pretty, in her coat of white, silently observing all the antics of a little child.

That little white chair, with her now cracking paint, was what had originally attracted me to the yard sale. But after having hubby stop, I became interested in other things and completely forgot about the little chair. Just after we pulled away from the curb, I remembered her. I had forgotten to ask the price so hubby turned the car around, and we headed back. (After all, I only needed to mention it was for The Little Princess. He would do anything for The Little Princess.)

“How much is the little white chair?” I asked.

“How about $2.00?” was the reply.

“Do I really need that little chair? It will just be in my way for the next few months until The Little Princess is old enough to sit in it.” “But just imagine how cute she will look sitting in it at a photo shoot!” My mind and I engaged ourselves in quite an argument. I decided I would make my final decision by the answer I got from the seller.

“Will you take a dollar for it?” I asked, knowing she would refuse my ridiculous offer because it was such an adorable little chair and well worth much more than the $2.00 she was asking. But at least my decision would be made for me, and I wouldn’t feel quite so guilty because I hadn’t tried. And, I had to justify making Granddaddy turn around and go back, didn't I?

“Sure,” she says, and that’s how the little white captain’s chair made her way to her new home at Grandmomma's house, only to be put aside for the day months later, when The Little Princesses’ mommy and daddy would rent some expensive photo equipment to take of their one-year-old- turned-twelve-and-a-half-going-on-thirteen-month-old daughter's pictures. After all, who can afford to pay a professional for between 2000 and 2500 pictures when the King is quite good at making pictures?

The little white chair finally became a part of the backdrop for some extremely beautiful pictures. It was well worth the dollar she had cost. The Little Princess really loved that little white chair, and she kept loving that little white chair, so much so that anytime she saw it she wanted to play in it. It didn’t matter that the little white chair was no longer being used for making pictures, and she was much too little to be playing in it.

The Little Princess has become quite the little climber since her days of walking began, and quite frankly the little chair has become a bit of a nuisance to the Queen Mommy. It became more and more difficult to distract Little Tarzan, I mean, The Little Princess once she saw it. And there’s really no place to store it at her house either.

It was time to make a decision. Queen Mommy kindly suggested Grandmomma might want to take it back home with her, and after chasing The Little Princess all day, I decided she was probably right. Did I really want to deal with The Little Princess and that chair the next time I babysat? I don't think so. I would put it out onto the front porch until one of us made a trip to the car, then we would pack it up to take it back home to our house.

At last I found a way to distract The Little Princess, and I picked up the little white chair and headed for the front door. Right behind me, toddling just as fast as those little short, chubby legs could carry her, came The Little Princess. Clearly, her one word…”Gan-momma!,” followed by her second unidentified language, “blah, blah, blah,” spurted forth. I only understood the “Gan-momma” part, but she was making it known in her remaining sentences, that was her little white chair, and she wasn’t happy I was taking it away. She wanted it back...NOW.

I had heard her say “Gan-momma” before, and even “Gan-daddy”. But this was the first time Queen Mommy had heard it or at least the first time she had acknowledged it even when I pointed it out to her. Prior to this, Queen Mommy was still in denial.
This time, she was first to point it out. She had heard her daughter say "Gan-momma"

It’s wonderful to at last become a real person to your grandchild, but perhaps the best feeling is when your own child acknowledges you may not have been hearing things after all. And you didn't just make that up.

I might add The Little Princesses’ words are never validated until Queen Mommy has heard them for herself, and she finally heard it. “Gan-momma!” received the stamp of validation, at long last.

Now, if we can just make sure the dollar investment in that little chair doesn’t become major medical bills in the future, we will have spent our money wisely. No, please! Not on my watch. Please! Don't get hurt on my watch, Little Tarzan, I mean Little Princess!

One lesson I’ve learned from that little chair and all the climbing and gymnastics The Little Princess is learning to perform on it, the lace I had envisioned adorning her sweet little body may eventually turn into only a teensy tad of lace sewn onto a mighty big swatch of denim. If I’m lucky enough to get even that much lace at all! Someday she may become our little Denim Princess sans the lace altogether.

But in the meantime we’ll keep working on it. All too soon she can toughen up and become the first woman Princess President of this country. Later. Let’s don't talk about that right now. I'm not ready.

Right now, I’ll dream my dreams about the two of us baking our cookies and decorating our pretty cakes, having our dainty little tea parties and playing with and nurturing our baby dolls and all the many other fun things we,little girls, are supposed to do. Like taking sides against Queen Mommy.

After all, it’s important to keep some lace in my life, even if it’s just a teeny tiny little bit. I love you Little Princess!