‘Tis the season to bring seven-foot trees and such into the house. But before there was the tree, there was the picnic table.
The picnic table had been happily sitting in our backyard for three-and-a-half years–a little workhorse of a table that has been the scene of many a playdate at, under, and from which children have eaten, hidden, and jumped. It’s where with chalk Oscar learned to print his name and where Edgar demolished not one but two birthday cakes. It’s starting to show signs of wear; and it now sits in our house.
We brought it in to serve as the “children’s table” for Thanksgiving–which worked beautifully; but though it could have gone back outside anytime over the last two weeks, it hasn’t. And I’m pretty sure it won’t because it is encouraging scenes such as this:
And anything that inspires my two big boys to “play nice” together should have a place of honor. And for now that place is their playroom.
So, welcome, Picnic Table. You’ll be toasty this winter and can stay as long as you continue to invite Oscar and Edgar to such levels of harmonious cooperation. Enjoy your stay . . . I know I am!