Our angry eggs grow up fast. Gone are the rattles and blankets, replaced with gleaming katanas and lacquered armor. They stand in perfect formation beneath a cherry blossom tree, yolk-yellow eyes narrowed with unshakable resolve. The soft coos of babyhood are now sharp battle cries, echoing across the misty battlefield. They are samurai now, and the world will remember their name for good or for bad.
a cute anthropomorphic baby egg, sitting on a soft fuzzy blue blanket, reading a baby book with thick cushioned plastic pages with bright cartoon animals illustrated on them and tactile simulation like horns and rattles and mirrors on the page, detailed background of a baby's play room, intriguing details ...