Him had a close encounter of the third kind with the bottle its first real day of life (indeed, no, it was the fourth, that the first three lovely companions snacks hospital me wanted to exorcise a forza di latte with TSP. .. but that’s another story …).
Are therefore now two years and one month the bottle Damblé sail for home, facing the challenges more gory, that Crusoe.
The first time our heroes were subjected to torture. At each end (so about every two hours) were filled with water, put in microwave and irradiated by electromagnetic waves not better identified. Filled with a strange white powder (… maybe the companions of snacks would not wanted to accompaniment was generally not All Shook Up as Tom Cruise, but a hysterical cry indomitable).
Once carried out their duty, were pupattolesco with a bong cleaner strinati washerwoman Ukraine under the Jet of boiling water, then put to lie in Our microwave steriliser, where for a few moments you can pull illudevano. And instead just then came the beautiful: closed the lid of the sterilizer, malefic were tucked in the oven, and for 8 minutes once cooked to the underworld in the stake of pressure steam.
This gruesome ritual lasted for quite some time, at least until weaning. At that point, as you put in your mouth Pupattola even the soles of shoes, we decided it was useless to do the whole rigmarole, and that a washing in dishwashers was more than sufficient to protect the little hungry from germs and bacteria.
When was fine, a cycle of “light Wash-cups and plates very dirty”, when bad was “heavy Wash crockery and pans-greasy and bisunte”.
Today, more than two years later, is now on the way Loyola College, and the bottle along with her. As two old war heroes, they realized that times have changed now, and that no one appreciates more pitched battles that have dealt with dignity and pride. Often, after the evening milk, Pupattola abandons them directly on the couch, after an unorthodox and even less rewarding (for baby) free belch. Clouded by the fatigue of the day, Aprovadimamma li collects with fatigue, opens them, tucks them four seconds flat under a gettarello of water, often pure cold and leaves them there to drain on the sink. The next morning, same as above, and the breakfast is eaten without glory and infamy.
These days though, I lent a compassionate look at my beloved baby bottles, and I noticed that one of them had entered into a phase that I define jaundiced-depression. In comparison with others, in fact, had a aspect yellow tending to which was very little hope.