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Ernie has outgrown the Moses basket that both he and his sister slept in for the first few weeks of their life and I am delighted by that. Not because it marks his journey from birth to bouncing baby, but because it means we could now get rid of this Moses basket. It was fucking awful. It was rubbish when Phoebe slept in it, but we just forgot and then it was rubbish again when we dug it out to use for Ernie. It seemed ridiculous to not keep using it, when it's lifespan was so short. But it irritated us all the way. The way it's wicker frame would keep cracking and shedding tiny choke hazard bits of wicker, the difficulty of stripping off the fabric lining every time the baby was sick (i.e. every night), having to wash it and reattach it. The ridiculous canopy that was even harder to remove, but which we quickly got rid of as it kept getting in the way, only to find that the prongs it sat on were even harder to remove, giving in and just folding them out of the way a bit. It was horrid.
And we got it from John Lewis who are usually so reliable. But if John Lewis can get it wrong then he whole edifice of my comfy middle-class life falls to pieces. I will just have to pretend that it wasn't from them.
So I was very glad today when we decided we didn't need it any more and I vowed to destroy it so that no one would be troubled by its awful design ever again. Sure I could have taken it to a charity shop, but why should other parents have to suffer through this. It felt extra symbolic destroying a baby's sleeping place on Christmas Eve, especially given the fact that our lord had to make do with a manger. Mary would have appreciated the Moses basket as a gift more than some Myrrh or Frankincense, but only to begin with. After a night or so she'd really been wishing she'd stuck with the wipe clean animal trough and disposable straw. Also she might have been freaked out when you had to explain why it was called a Moses basket - are you planning to float my child down a river? No, Mary, it was named in honour of that event. What?
Destroying the Moses basket was a good way to escape its evil and also mark my son's move away from infancy. We didn't feel like hanging on to it in case another tiny Herring pops up (or out) at some point. Not to say there won't be another one (please God, don't let me have to go through this again. I am so old), just if there is, we'll splash the cash so he or she gets an uncured sleeping place for 11 weeks, before moving up to the uncursed cot (that I won't be chopping up for firewood).
The thing fell apart very easy with a few kicks. I was trying to saw it too, but it basically crumpled at the sight of the saw. I will burn it on one of our two fireplaces, but it won't provide much heat or kindling. The wicker might as well be made from air. But the annoying kind of air that splinters and can choke a child.
It's not often that you get to destroy a cot and it was oddly cathartic.I don't think that means that I am going to be going all King Herod on your arses any time soon. But I can't wait to see this Moses basket burn. Imagine if they'd set the original one on fire too. What a story that would have been.
