The other day I was standing over the kitchen sink once again. I painstakingly washed bottle after bottle. Looking at my countertops it dawned on me….
Dr. Brown owns my ass. Owns it.
|We wash by hand most often because if we put them in the dishwasher we’d run it with just bottle stuff like twice a day.|
Dr. Brown’s bottles aren’t just bottles. There’s the tubes, the nipples, the caps, and the magic rubber stopper things that mean you will never have a colicky kid. There’s even special little pipe cleaner-like brushes to clean said rubber stoppers. It doesn’t stop there. Oh no. The genius who is Dr. Brown convinced me to buy a Dr. Brown’s thermal tote, a Dr. Brown’s bottle warmer, and a Dr. Brown’s bottle brush to match the little pipe cleaners.
Like all well-meaning new parents I registered for the bottles I heard were the best. (All my friends having 2011 babies are getting Tommy Tippee’s. I feel so “out”.) Fortunately Dr. Brown’s fit on the end of my Medela pump. Unfortunately, I’ve found they leak. Greyson said to me the other day as milk dripped down his hand, “If I ever meet Dr. Brown. I’m gonna punch him in the face!” I said, “How do you know it’s a guy? What if Dr. Brown is a woman? Would you punch her?” He responded, “I’ll punch every Dr. Brown I see!”
Good to know he’s not sexist about it. Good to know she doesn’t have colic. For all this work, she better not get it or Dr. Brown will get a beat down.