Ode to the Exersaucer

Dear Exersaucer,

Over the last 4 months you have been a close friend. We captured your first introduction, and as Collin grew in his ability to control his upper body, the two of you became great buddies. You frequented every room in our home, entertaining our son so we could grab a bite to eat or fix our hair or send an email or prepare a meal. Even though your instructions explicitly forbid leaving a baby unattended in your presence, you allowed us to do just that.

We had heard rumors that our days with you were numbered. We received advice to treasure Collin's immobility stage. And now, dear friend, the day has come that you are no longer loved. A visit with you entails tears and whines of protest. We will pass you on to babies who can appreciate you and hope to return you to your former glory in our living room if God graces us with another child in the future.

Until then, you'll have to watch your former friend pass you by like this:
He probably won't even give you a second glance now that he can move himself to toys beyond your 10-inch radius.

Exersaucer, you will not be forgotten. We will speak of you fondly with statements like, "remember when we could just put Collin in the exersaucer and get ready rather than tag-teaming our morning routine" or "remember when Collin was content in the exersaucer instead of crawling around in search of germ-filled items or choking hazards to put in his mouth." You will be sorely missed!