You’ll have to excuse my ignorance in a previous post where I unwittingly referred to sippy cups as sippie cups. Personally, I think if you’re going to invent a word just to sound cute, the ie ending is far more effective. But hey, no one asked me.
About these sippy cups…a total racket, no? In “Can We Talk About Food (Again)?” I think I raise an excellent question. Really, how different is the sippy cup from a bottle? Why the need? Someone please educate me. Believe me, I’ve been around the baby block. I started babysitting when I was fourteen and have my share of nieces and nephews. Yet somehow, I suffered under the delusion of the sippy cup as the holy grail of baby beverage consumption. I’ve thought of it as a rite of passage for my little boy — something all kids must experience. Kinda like a pacifier. (I should’ve known better. The pacifier never caught on with the little bugger despite my energetic attempts.)
Before we get going further on this, I do understand the “no drip” sippy cup feature and its allure. It’s just that, well, they drip, dammit. They freakin’ drip! When my boy shakes them vigorously and bangs them against the highchair, they drip. How could they not drip? Dripping aside, these cups have a few other problems. First of all, there’s nothing sippy about them. These suckers take work. And I’m not saying my guy is the brightest kid on the block (but I must say, he has quite the vocab for a ten month old), but he’s really struggled to figure these things out. I don’t even want to know how much liquid I’ve wasted in the process. Oy.
I, however, consider myself lucky. I’ve heard other parents share tales of their absurdly large assortment of sippy cups, of their quests for the perfect model, their hopes that new and improved would really mean new and improved. And then…the disappointment. You see, I consider myself lucky I only purchased four of them. And well, they all suck. Granted, I didn’t ask for advice before making these purchases, so I should really blame myself. But self-blame is so not en vogue; I’d rather blame someone else. So here you go, parents of kids yet to use sippy cups. Here are the exact sucky cups (colors and all) I own (well, just the yellow one in the Avent picture):
Nuby Sippy Cup:
Avent Sippy Cup:
Nuk Sippy Cup:
And finally, the sippy to rock all sippies (there, I got my ie), the drippiest of the drippy:
Boon Fluid No-Spill Toddler Cup
Yup, they all suck. But get this…turns out my kid knows how to drink from a straw. Little experiment at nana’s house yesterday yielded some seriously promising results. Peace out, sippy cup. I am so over you.
I know he won’t be able to take his cute little sippy cups into the car or happily tote them around the house. But remind me…why exactly is my kid drinking in the car? And why is he walking around with beverages? The kid can’t wipe his own tush and I’m going to trust him in my car? Yeah…not so much.
Anyway, I know toddler cups with straws exist in the world of baby buying hell. I’ve seen them; they’re lurking out there and surely mocking me. But I won’t be fooled twice. This time, I’m asking questions. This time, I’m going straight to the top and asking for advice. Please, please help me.
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