Twenty years ago when my sister was in one, they were four cheap casters attached to a thin plastic frame with a bit of a canvas seat thingy hanging down.
Even on a shag pile carpet, the laziest, most disinterested of toddlers could manage to whip up a considerable lick, careering heavily into tables, walls and sofas while snipping off the toes of those stupid enough to bare their digits to its mutational powers.
There is nothing quite like the thrill of that rising panic which ensues once you have clocked a hurtling baby walker heading straight for your kneecaps.
Except maybe when a Doberman is running toward you on a desolate beach.
So imagine the delight of Dave and I when we realised that sticking The Poop in just such a contraption, on our LAMINATE FLOOR, would allow us to unleash this surreptitious weapon on anyone who may be out staying their welcome in our inhospitable home. What a God send it would be. However.
Baby walkers have gone all 'safe'. All 'politically correct'. All 'legislational'.
Or, as we have referred to it, all 'boring'.
Clearly, amid the sawn off fingers, fractured kneecaps and lacerated Achilles tendons, someone has had a bit of a grumble. There's always one misery guts that's got to go and ruin it for the rest of us, isn't there? Spoilsport.
Now all baby walkers are fitted with these safety device wotsits.
|While the white rubber stoppers stop the chair from rolling down any sort |
of slope, the fact there are only casters on only one end put paid to
gathering any dangerous level of speed.
And when I say all walkers, I do include cheapo B&M/Pound Stretcher/In Store models in this - believe me we have L-O-O-K-E-D for one of the old style death traps and there is not a one to be found.
Now we are left to play with this insipid, anaemic, watered down sibling of the original triumph in baby transportation. And it's just not the same. No matter how ferociously Dave launches Boo at me across our lounge, over 50% of the time she never covers anywhere near the distance she must travel for me to catch her, often grinding to a bland halt not two metres from her Father.
And the crowd went wild. Not.
So, this weekend, Dave has scraped and dug at the fixed wheels and their axles, grinding them down so they fit together far more loosely, and he has worked tirelessly to cut down the cumbersome rubber stoppers that are intent on ruining our fun. His efforts have enabled the seat to access greater free wheeling capacity, and thus the device now offers potentially more excitement/entertainment/maiming for all who encounter it.
The walker, now restored to the former glory of its ancestral traditions, spent Sunday with a delighted Poop installed in it. She tore gigglingly across the lounge as she plunged into coffee tables, charged along the edge of radiators and smashed into slow moving shins.
Now, where are those unwanted visitors again?