The baby swing. As far as I'm concerned, it's a required piece of baby paraphernalia. Nothing can calm babies or keep them contented or help them go to sleep like the baby swing. I hail whoever came up with the battery-powered baby swing; it's a wonderful, wonderful invention.
Unfortunately, it has a dark and sinister alter-ego the glories in injuring those who cannot partake of its services. The four of us who can walk are always stubbing our toes on its legs. The legs splay out further than the swing in order to give it more stability, so our perception is always off and we completely whack ourselves on those legs all the time. (Rabbit has the record for most stubs (that produced tears) in a day--seven.)
Well, the baby swing has turned just downright nasty--it broke one of Mr. Brooke's toes. He whacked his foot one evening, and then spent the rest of the night saying how much it hurt and when he woke up, the middle toe on his left foot was completely black.
I got him in that day to see the podiatrist, who did x-rays and all that fun stuff and diagnosed him with having cracked the cap of the toe and actually having chipped off a piece of the bone!
So now Mr. Brooke is hobbling about with a bunch of tape and gauze looped about the offending appendage in order to immobolize it. He'll go in again this week to see if we need to take more extreme measures in order to promote its healing.
And the baby swing sits there, smugly grinning...