Love, true love.

Our new kitchen table was delivered today.  And let me tell you, I’m in in awe of it’s lovely kitchen table-ness. 

You see, our previous kitchen table was composed of two old Krispy Kreme tables pushed together, and matched with old Krispy Kreme chairs.  Now, to some–maybe some sort of doughnut history aficionados or something–this may have been a wonderful kitchen table set-up.  But to us, it just happened to be what we had.  It was what we could afford back when we needed a new table, and it was what we kept for years just because we didn’t buy anything else.

But when we found ourselves in the furniture store for the umpteenth time, perusing the tables, we finally bit the bullet and bought a new one.  It wasn’t until we left the store, receipt in hand, that I thought, holy crap, we’re going to have a wood table.  And if it gets scratched, it will kill me.  If it gets marker, or nail polish, or any other heinous thing on it, I’m going to have to kill whomever made the mark.  And I hate to murder a small child.

So now the table is sitting in my kitchen, protected from the children by a tablelcoth that is folded in two, adding a little extra element of protection.  I have let the children eat their snack on the table, even though it nearly killed me.  I wanted to throw myself on top of the nice un-marred wood and protect it with my very life.  I wanted to ask them if they were really sure they wanted a snack, or could we maybe skip snack today.  But I was good.  I didn’t do any of that.  I just hovered over them, watching their every move.

And I may have threatened their lives, just a little bit.

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2 responses to this post.

  1. Posted by sara on 09/05/2007 at 5:47 pm

    you KNOW what i’m gonna ask…….

    i’ll be waiting……..

    😉

    Reply

  2. Posted by e on 09/06/2007 at 8:43 am

    HA! I knew when I wrote it that I should have photographic evidence!

    I’ll get the camera out in the next day or so – and I’ve still got to get one of me, I know, I know…

    What can I say… I’m of the slacker generation, and it shows.

    Reply

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