Our poppy sample had been in a few family’s hands already, and they all loved it. As my little miss was approaching two and not using a highchair any longer (in favour of a small table and chairs) I wanted to try it too, but wasn’t sure what she would make of it. However Christmas Eve I took it home with a shopping bag full of strawberries and tomatoes to see just how messy we could get it.
My first surprise was that it fit really well in our smallish house. The second was that Miss Two loved it with the same passion that she loves her rainboots and her twirly skirt. That is a lot. Rather than fuss about being ‘restrained’ she just sat there and ate. The phrase ‘Sit down and eat your dinner’ became more and more foreign to me as the weeks progressed. I began to realise I was going to have to give it back all too soon, eek!
Her favorite part was the low seat setup, as she still felt like a ‘big girl’ and had lots of room to smush strawberries or roll playdoh snakes on her tray. As a feisty two year old learning about ownership and sharing she began to call it ‘my chair’. It was her special chair, just the right size for my baby bear to eat her porridge.
But the holidays ended in a whirlwind of zoo trips and housecleaning and the time came for the poppy to come back. I told her. She wasn’t happy. “My chair. My chair” she protested. Sadly I packed it up one night and put it in the car, so she wouldn’t see. She resigned herself to her table and the daily battle of ups & downs commenced once again.
However she was onto something. Sure the poppy is a highchair, but what was it called when it was low, myself and the rest of the marketing team wondered? The answer came from my experience. It became ‘my chair’. It encapsulated exactly the independence and adaptability of the seat and toddlers in general.
So now whenever I see the poppy advertised online or in print and see the words ‘my chair’. I smile. Because I know that my little munchkin played a part in shaping a great product’s story and also that brilliant ideas can come from the unlikeliest of places, and even from the smallest voices.