Everything is a Vehicle

When I was three years old, I would set myself up in a laundry basket with every stuffed toy I owned and badger my dad to fly me around the house in it.

We called it "Pigs in Space" --you know, like the Muppets. Don't know about Dad, but I sure never tired of it.

Like mother, like son; Big Bro sees a potential vehicle for rides around the house (flying or dragged along the floor) in pretty much anything he can fit on or into-- boxes, bumbo chairs, blankets, buckets, serving trays, and so on. My poor back. That boy loves to be given rides.

I should clarify: he loves to be given rides, except for in his stroller and other things he's actually supposed to ride in.

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(P.S.: I've tried to word it as 'going for a ride' in the shopping cart or stroller to make it sound more appealing, but he's not buying it.)