Mostly mummy musings about life with multiple boys October 24, The Story of The Yellow Cot Once upon a time there was a lady and this lady loved yellow cots very much.
She would often dream about what it would be like to own a yellow cot, how a yellow cot might look in her house, what sunny yellowness the cot could bring to her life. One day the lady decided to stop dreaming and start searching so she did what any self-respecting lover of yellow cots would do: In an instant different yellow cots started to float before her eyes.
Her fingers were alive with excitement as she swiped with as much vigour as a Fairy Godmother might wave a wish-giving wand. But it soon became clear that these cots were out of reach.
They lived in counties far far away. It was the most magical yellow cot the lady had ever seen.
And the best thing about this cot? Not only was it the most yummy yellow that premium Scandinavian brands can buy, it was also brand new, in its original box and a bonkers bargain price. But boy-oh-boy, how wrong could one yellow cot loving lady be? The beautiful cot was MUCH closer than she thought.
This lady knew what she was doing. And so it was that the lady went in search of the yellow cot. She contacted the seller immediately.
By In a nutshell A superbly stylish cotbed which lasts from birth to 6 years, height adjustable and with removable sides. She contacted the seller immediately. For juniors it can be converted into a bed, and with the included bed rail those midnight tumbles are avoided.
There was no airy-fairy language; she made herself completely clear. I want your cot, she typed. I really want your cot. Now that she had seen the best of the yellow cots the world had to offer she was desperate to make it her own. Nothing would stand in her way.
Not even a message, which followed very quickly, from the seller telling her that the cot had been taken to a nearby furniture charity shop, and was, therefore, no longer for sale.
The lady requested further details from the seller who was happy to help the lady in her search, only leading the lady to further believe that the yellow cot was meant for the lady and the lady was meant for the cot. It was laid out in the stars, it had to be. One quick call to the charity shop bought the news the lady had been hoping for. The cot was still there. It could be reserved. It was as if the lady had whooshed right down a rainbow, landing head first in her own chest of gold.
A yellowy gold in the shape of a cot bed.
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