A Riot of Plastic

As mentioned before, Owen is not a big believer in sitting when he could instead be carried by one of his slaves parents.  He has a bumbo seat, but as of late his thunder thighs have prevented him from fitting comfortably into it.  He still can fit in his catapult seat, but he tends to tolerate it for five minutes tops:

Don't let this smiling face fool you--

he is about to demand to be extracted:

Yes, that's right, You! Take. Me. Out!

So one recent Sunday I was dispatched to that particular hellhole known as Babies "R" Us to buy Owen a new contraption in which we could, on occasion, dump him, thus giving our weary arms a rest from his nearly twenty pounds of tightly packed chub.  I went to buy what some call an exersaucer, and others, an office.

I found the aisle with said saucers, and browsed amongst the explosions of plastic, trying to choose the lesser of the gaudy evils.  Since I couldn't make up my mind, I texted the three choices to Sean.  Behind the first door we had the modest frog office:

Behind the second, the aquarium office:

And behind the third, the jungle office:

Ever fond of a sea shanty, Sean texted back his vote for the sea-themed saucer, and I left the store a little later with a large box of blue plastic.

Sean set it up, and Owen now spends a wee bit of time each day in his office at his desk, until he gets angry that he can't reach all the gadgets, and is forced to start yelling at his secretary:

Owen is very busy.  Go away.

Of course, another member of my household is also interested in the exersaucer....