Spaghetti nights in the highchair

I think sometimes I never know how much to share, I really treasure moments with daddy but I also love to share moments like this. Quiet nights after long days at work and daddy making spaghetti for us, getting me all situated in a onesie and being buckled in. This was the very first time I ate in the high chair with him. Not being able to get up for juice, a fork or napkin and having to ask for any little thing I might’ve needed made me feel a bit guilty at first.

It’s funny how often we daydream about being so taken care of but in the moment… it’s hard to accept or not feel a little bit of shame or guilt in a different way. I dunno how but it’s like he knew, and after dinner he told me how he loved how helpless I was in the chair all buckled in and unable to even lean all the way over, having to ask for things and making him feel needed. The way he reassured me just made me love this meal. Kicking my legs that don’t quite always reach the bottom step, happily wiggling & eating. Looking over a very different and taller view of the living room. Even just the view from the chair made me feel small. When I look over daddy is at the table, his adult plate, the table creating a different background for the same meal but looked so different from my little plate, the wood of the highchair tray and even just watching him casually get up to grab Parmesan was a small reminder I’d have to ask I couldn’t just grab what I wanted when I wanted. It wasn’t in my control anymore💕

I’ve had my chair for 2 years and this was the first time someone put me in it and I ate like this and it’s become more regular and something we just both enjoy. I feel less shy to ask for more juice or hot sauce (I am a Louisiana fiend haha) and this whole experience made me feel a little less guilty about being needy when I’m small or just how much care daddy puts into taking care of me. So I’m extra happy to share this first for us and glad he snagged some very sad photos of this 🥰