Long story short: my late grandmother had a house full of bountiful fruit baskets. All fake, made of carved semi-precious stones and wire. As a small child arriving at Grandmother’s house—a Major Event, not a casual family visit—it was unreconcilable seeing a plateful of grapes then being yelled at for trying to touch them.
Next weekend they go to auction, so some other poor soul can inflict them on children who can’t yet be called gullible. I feel sorry for those kids.
