When I was a kid, there was this table in our house that fascinated me. It was small, only about 18 inches high. It had a square top and was perfectly kid sized. The legs arched gracefully down to cloven hooves complete with carved tufts of fur. It was a fantastic kid table.
As I grew older, the table lost none of its appeal. I requested that table many times over the years. My mother’s response was always the same, “Over my dead body.”
The table is now my nightstand. Hmm.