When did baby walkers become so inoffensive?
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.