babysizer
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Your baby is the size of poor Yorick. A fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy.

I knew him, Horatio.

He hath borne me on his back a thousand times; and now, how abhorred in my imagination it is! My gorge rises at it. Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know not how oft. Where be your gibes now? Your gambols? Your songs? Your flashes of merriment, that were wont to set the table on a roar?

Week 26: My baby is the size of poor Yorick. A fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy.