Chinese Water Torture

There is a drawer in the kitchen filled with all of Zoe’s and Calder’s various bowls, plates, sippy cups, and other miscellaneous dinning paraphernalia of the toddler. There are at least a dozen brands of sippy cups. We are always trying to find ‘The One’ that does not have a complicated valve that requires an engineering degree to reassemble (disassembling is always a snap), does not sprout mold in uncleanable spots (not that that keeps me from using it), is dishwasher safe, BPA free, does not require an adult to open or use, and does not leak. Our most recent sippy cup purchase had only two parts; the cup and the top. There was no valve, just a few small, precision cut holes that the packaging claimed did not leak. The first thing I did when we got home with our new cups was to test their leak-proof claim (actually, the first thing I did when we got home was use the bathroom). They were indeed leak-proof, as long as they were upright (I later discovered that there was small print on the packaging that recommended not turning the cup upside down; hell, my water glasses don’t leak if I don’t turn them upside down). Regardless, Zoe was very excited to have some new cups (we’re calling them an early birthday gift), and carried one around the house with her until bedtime (we could always find her by following the paths made of small drops of water). At bedtime it usurped her previous favorite (and truly leak-proof) cup next to her bed.

An hour or so after we put her to bed she let out a cry. Alison rushed down to her room (I was reading failblog.com so decided to just stay put) and discovered that she had fallen asleep holding the cup; eventually it had tipped enough to drip onto her head. (I should mention that the way I had tested the leak-proof claim was to hand it to Zoe and tell her to tip it upside down over her head. I need to experiment to see how many things I can get her to dump over herself before she catches on.)

Much later that night Zoe woke up again, but this time wandered down the hall and climbed into our bed. I could see something clutched in her hand, but assumed it was one of the stuffed animals that always made the trip from bedroom to bedroom with her. Zoe curled up tight against me, and I could feel something press into my armpit. A moment later I began to feel a cold, wet drip. I reached down and removed the sippy cup from her grasp, dried my armpit on her pajama’s, and went back to sleep.