I have never had the great displeasure of meeting Dr. Brown and my cynical side can’t be convinced that there really is an actual person known as “Dr. Brown.” What I do know, is that his name is attached to a series of products – in particular, the “Natural Flow” bottles that seem to be widely available for purchase.

I have little doubt that Dr. Brown – whether he exists as man or corporation – loves babies. Unfortunately, it has become obvious to me that Doc Brown’s love of babies is directly proportional only to his hatred of the parents of these very same infants. This curious dynamic, admittedly, requires additional explanation. Allow me do the heavy lifting.

As previously stated, Doc Brown has created a series of products known as Natural Flow bottles. On their face, they sound like winners. What concerned and loving mother wouldn’t be interested in something labeled as such? By my informal estimation, we have approximately two-dozen bottles present and in good working order within our household. Arguably, the bottles we currently own and use serve their purpose quite effectively; they are loaded with formula, inserted into our son’s anxiously awaiting mouth, and consumed without observable issue. Ryder has often been known to release a burp, or in less genteel company what may be described as, a belch, after a feeding. Now, I’m not a licensed pediatrician, nor do I frequently masquerade as one on the Internet, but from my understanding of babies, this is both expected and desired for proper baby-functioning. As a family, we were generally happy with this behavior from Ryder’s birth until now. Ryder is quite satisfied and happy after both the feeding and the burp; he has never directly complained to me, or to the best of my knowledge, to my wife.

Given all of the above, one can imagine my surprise when I arrived home on an otherwise unremarkable day to find that several of Dr. Brown’s Natural Flow bottles had quietly infiltrated our household. It appeared that my wife was not immune from Doc Brown’s various charms, and the sparkling promise of a belch-free – and by extension – utterly contented baby. I was admittedly skeptical, and as we opened the package together my concern increased. Apparently, Doc Brown, in his loving and dogged pursuit of a belch-free world, had created an infant’s bottle with the roughly same number of moving parts as a modern automobile’s transmission. I watched in horror as piece after piece was unpacked and laid on the counter for assembly. The final twist of Doc Brown’s well-intentioned knife came as my eyes came to rest upon the micro-sized wire-brush bottle cleaner – a piece of equipment so specialized and necessary to continued bottle usage that its inclusion in the package was required. My last moments of spare time flashed before my eyes as I envisioned myself straining over the sink, working this tiny cleaning implement to diligently scrub Doc Brown’s Frankenbottles.

I was concerned.

I silently resolved that I would proceed as if Doc Brown had never entered our household. I ignored the bottles with all of my substantial attention-blocking capabilities. Only when Caitlin delivered one of Doc Brown’s Natural Flow bottles to my hand as I waited to feed Ryder, was I forced to admit that Doc Brown was, as they say, “in the house.” I fed Ryder with the given bottle, which he dutifully consumed. I positioned him for manual release of the pressure that normally builds up within him after eating, but knew secretly that nothing would come of it view publisher site. I imagined that Doc Brown had bested me, and now, given the obvious superiority of his product, I would spend my next few years furiously wielding a three-millimeter bottle brush, cleaning up his handiwork.

To my great joy, Ryder released an enormous belch. I chose the word carefully, because in the categorization of these things, this action could only be described as such.

It was at this point, to my perverse delight I realized:

Doc Brown is dead to me.

And I haven’t looked back since.