Baby Formula: A Conspiracy Theory

For the last couple of months I have had a very cute, but very loud alarm clock that goes off right about 4am every morning. Her name is Claire and she'll be one year old at the end of this month.

As soon as Claire starts howling, Jessica and I both lay there in bed having a battle of wits to see can wait the other person out. Jessica often gives me a shove and says "go take care of your daughter." I flop my hand around on the night stand blindly searching for my glasses, then I stumble into the dark kitchen, leaving the lights off so as not to wake anyone else who all seem to have no problem sleeping through the Claire-siren.

There I turn on the faucet to get the water hot, fumble around in the cupboard to find a bottle and a nipple/lid that actually fits that bottle, put in a couple scoops of nasty smelling formula, then take an educated guess at how much water to put in the bottle. As I walk across the living room I am shaking the bottle to mix it. It's always fun to have the little volcano action when you take your finger off the end of the nipple after shaking it.

Claire is needing her formula fix and she bounces in her crib and grunts and groans with the anticipation of an addict. She lunges and pulls the bottle from my hands and plops back down in the crib on her back where I lovingly and gently cover her back up with her blankies. Within seconds she is nearly back to sleep, in pure ecstasy, chugging away at a warm bottle full of the most powerful drug I have ever seen.

Baby formula companies are perpetuating a conspiracy on us all. At nearly $25 a container they've got be raking in the dough on the level of Columbian drug lords. That's all I've got to say about that.