There is nothing more endearing than a child's chair. This is the story of the one that resides in my living room. It was a gift from Santa Claus to my maternal grandmother for her second Christmas in 1901. When I was a little girl, it first resided at my great grandmother's house, and then was moved to my grandmother's house in Kansas. My grandmother was very attached to and possessive of her little rocking chair. She would never let me sit in it. I didn't understand because she was always so generous and loving otherwise. But there was always an excuse--- "you're too little", "you're too big", "the buckles on your shoes may scratch it", etc., etc. As an adult, I never was able to find out what her fixation was about her little chair. To this day, I don't know the story. When my youngest child was a baby, I jokingly said to my grandmother, "You know Jenni may be your last great-grandchild. Don't you think you should give me the chair?" To my surprise, when we were ready to leave Kansas to return to Colorado, she said, "Take the chair!" I had it in my car so fast.
Once it came to my house, it was always used by my children. And since I have had grandchildren, they use it to read in, watch TV in; it even serves as a corner post for blanket tents. And you know, it is still in near original condition with hardly a scratch on it. I cherish this chair, even though I have never sat in it.
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