I picked it up while on a search for a relatively indestructible toy, thinking the tough hide of a kid's basketball would surely last longer than the thin-plastic of those bouncy balls found in every shape and color, usually in big net bins in the sport section of most stores.
Now that she can get her mouth on the ball and she is losing her baby clumsiness, Freki has decided this is her game of choice. Oh, she still hauls the Jolly Ball around, flipping it in the air and shaking it about. But if she can entice me or dad to play soccer--her world is wonderful.
If I do not move with the ball, she stops it then circles back to get me. 'Come on, mom! Kick the ball again!'
Does she know the word 'basketball'? You better believe she does!