I don’t know, this seems like enabling behavior. If your delightful little child is so terribly round, so perfectly ovoid that she has lost the ability to use her legs, and has to be perambulated about in a basket, you probably shouldn’t encourage that.
“Georgette…I’m sorry, oh so sorry, but we went down to the Winn-Dixie, and they didn’t have any more dresses in your size. So we made you this out of a tablecloth. But a real pretty tablecloth. Do you like it?”
“Mu huh hah hah. Pi cho manji ko manki do chalo Han Solo tho ku ba le chale. Hah hah.”
“That seems broadly positive…”
Or maybe it’s a new product from Kentucky Fried Chicken? The Rosy-Cheeked Blonde Family Basket? Each one comes with a side of biscuits and gravy, and a family-sized cole slaw. Also comes with a crow-bar to lever her out of there. That’s the hard part.
…I feel safe in this basket. Serene and at peace. In this basket, the world is small, and within it, I am small–Ooh! It’s the Burger Barn!
Savers on South Lamar, which has been an endless bastion of perfectly round life forms, for some reason.