The Real Price of a $10 High Chair

Since I got pregnant, I’ve discovered the wonderful world of consignment shopping. Because, really, who wants to pay full price for maternity clothes you’ll wear for a few months? And after you have a baby, who wants to pay full price for pretty much anything a baby is going to use/wear for a few months?

It is now time for Kara to have a real high chair instead of just the seat with a tray, and this is the weekend of the Anderson consignment sale. Woot! So Kara and I went to Anderson (about a half-hour drive). We picked up a couple cheap toys, a few cheap clothes, and voila! They had a high chair for $10. Bam! Done!

So I carry my baby, her toys, her clothes, and her high chair to my sedan and suddenly I realize I didn’t think this through. You see, since I bought the high chair from a consignment sale, it was already assembled so that any potential buyer could see that the chair had all its pieces and it’s in good shape. Which is good, but that doesn’t help me transport it. There’s no fitting this thing in my trunk (yes, I tried), so I think, Maybe I can scoot the carseat over, lay the front seat back, and shove it in there. So I sit Kara in the driver’s seat, take her carseat out, lay back the front seat, and do all kinds of gymnastics to try to fit the high chair in the car. It’s just not going to happen. And I can’t leave Kara in the driver’s seat anymore, because she’s getting restless and starting to move around. So I pick her up and take a close look at the chair. It would be a piece of cake to take apart if only I had a screwdriver.

I cross my fingers and head back inside, leaving the high chair and carseat by my trunk and hoping people decide not to take them. Luck was with me—someone working the sale did, in fact, have a screwdriver. I had back outside and am happy to see that luck is still with me and my items are still by my car, but now we have another problem: I have nowhere to put Kara. Her carseat is sitting on the ground, and Kara is now old and big enough that she can rock herself forward and tip forward out of the carseat. I can’t just sit her in the car because it’s not safe either. In the midst of my trouble, enter a middle-aged couple heading to the sale.

“Do you need a hand?” they asked.

“Yes,” I said, simultaneously trying to figure out how to even begin asking for help.

I explained that I was trying to dismantle the chair to fit in my car. The gentleman did that part. Then the woman (I know, I feel terrible about this part in a way, that I handed my child to a complete stranger, but sometimes you just go with your instincts) held Kara while I got her seat back in the car and everything organized.

I got my daughter, returned the screwdriver, and returned home happy.

Was it worth it, you ask?

Well, at least it makes a good story.



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