Somewhere, an exchange like the following has to have occurred. We're sure of it.
Mother A: "Is that…is that an amputated finger in your pocket?"
Mother B: "No, of course not. I'm just happy to see you. Can I interest you in a good used stroller?"
(No, it's not the car company. But things named along these lines seem to have a nasty habit of trying to kill/maim you and yours. Just sayin'.)