They wait for you at the end of every day. Multiplying like mad. Watching from the side of your kitchen sink, mocking you. You do everything you can to ignore them and go about your day unbothered. Until the morning comes when you have no more of them left to give your child and you must face the inevitable. Washing bottles.
*cue horrific scream*
Okay, maybe it’s not that serious. But it’s still inconvenient. You have to break down each one into at least three parts, (bottle, nipple, ring) and then wash each one thoroughly then boil them all to get rid of any tiny germ particles that may be left. I for one, hate washing dishes. Bottles… those are just baby dishes.
But seriously, you can always buy the ones that come with liners so you don’t technically HAVE to wash them except for the nipple but… those are more expensive and I just don’t wanna. So I’m old-school. I bust out the regular bottles with the regular plastic caps that are sold in Wal-Mart. Three to a pack preferably.
But whether you’re a liner type of girl or a straight up bottle kinda guy or the fancy Advent bottle with the gas preventing ring spoon kind of parent… yeah I know… they all do the same thing. They all feed that baby and get point fluid to point mouth.
Now the really cool thing is when baby learns how to hold their own bottle. That’s when the heavens open up, a glorious light shines all around and the angels sing. Not really, but at least you can eat while they essentially feed themselves right next to you. That my friend is a small triumph. And I will take it.
Baby Disciples 
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