A Riddle

I'm a seat reserved for royalty

Yet also for a slob

My name is a symbol of purity and filth

You could say I'm a paradox

Though a food-stained cloak rests upon my frame

I'm still a four-legged wooden throne

All conform to my inhabitant

Whether he froths, smiles, or throws

My arms embrace an unblemished soul

New to the dark world of fate

You stare down at him in wonderment  

Because his mind cannot yet self-hate

When he grows one day like you know he will

He'll leave me to conform

To manners, rules, schools, and throngs

He'll sit amongst the norm

For now I make sure he sits on the clouds

While he's bouncing, unbiased, and free

I hold what seems smaller than you

My pupose bigger than me.

***

Answer: A highchair :)