I once had a little wooden red table and two tiny chairs. Actually it was a gift to my kids when they were toddlers from HippyBro and the perfect play size for small people. Now the red table is on the verandah supporting a range of unused pots and petrol cannisters and the chairs have gone missing! I suspect BabyBro in a fit of tidyness has taken them to the tip unless we've been surveyed by dwarves who have souvernired them and whilst I find that scenario quite amusing, it is highly unlikely. There used to be one in the shed and one on my end of the verandah but they are there no more.
So why do we lament their passing. They were the perfect size to sit on when wanting to get down low to fiddle with motor bike or pocket bike parts. They were the perfect height to stand on to change light bulbs and dust cobwebs behind the kitchen cupboards. They were the perfect height so sit on whilst sorting through the Tipperary midden that is my bathroom cupboard without having to get on my knees or suffer back strain. They were the perfect height for someone to sit on whilst I coloured or trimmed their hair. They were the perfect height for cleaning my under-bench oven (although why I didn't get a wall oven I dunno . . . not the smartest move I ever made). They were the perfect height to stand on for painting cornices and celings. Now, because I'm passed as fit, I want to start painting and freshen up the place a bit. Partly because it's grimy and needs it and partly because I feel as soon as I'm finished, a bulldozer will be imminent . . . isn't that the way it goes?
So, in the absence of a little red chair, I now have to go to Bunnings (Ooooh Bunnings . . .) and buy a small step ladder which is much less stable and more cumbersome. And of course, I'll get trapped as usual by the discounted fairy lights or the bargain bin located conveniently at the checkout queue. Or I could go to Toys R Us and buy another little red table set . . .