February 3rd, 2015

| Arthritic, Carpal Tunneled 30-Something Dad | 911 Failing Father Rd.|  Island of Misfit Dad Toys, Ca |

Dear Clothes Makers,

I’m writing to extend an enormous THANK YOU for your baby clothing products. They’re easy-to-use, practical, and flexible to fit any baby changing need.

I especially love how in order to successfully operate the buttons one needs to possess the dexterity of a brain surgeon and the fingers of an ant. Trying to button these things is like trying to play the board game operation during an earthquake. One can only assume that at some point during production, someone on your team (probably the one person in operations without the finger size of a flute-playing sprite) spoke up and suggested using larger size buttons. This goes against our button quality and lifelong mission of ensuring no dad will be able to use their index fingers again you probably retorted. Did human evolution ever come up in conversation or were you all too busy doing your best Simpson’s Mr. Burns impression with your pencil fingers to care? Had this been 1400 BC, when humans averaged four-foot six and had the finger circumference of a toothpick, your customer satisfaction ratings would’ve been extraordinary. It may have worked for the Persian Empire, but this is 2015.

Button size aside, I also appreciate the challenge of trying to match up one button to another. Standard logic would have buttons meeting across from one another – button one on the left, matches up with button two directly on the other side. This is how every article of clothing is made. But you took a different approach. Why should we stand by and let the normalcy of the world dictate how we make our product you said, dancing the fine line between brilliance and craziness, but mostly craziness. You decided to match up the lower right butt button to the upper button by the baby’s chest thus creating the only article of clothing requiring a GPS to see it to completion.

You’ve also managed to exponentially regress the ferocity of the animal kingdom. Outfits from yester year featured cuddly sheep, cats, and bunnies. Now you’ve made sure every animal that could sting, maim, or kill you is depicted in a cuddly light for children thus ensuring that the first time my son sees an alligator he’s going to go up to it, pet it, then proceed to give it a bear hug. In some small town somewhere, Jacques Cousteau’s grandson can’t wait to get into the water where he will proceed to voluntarily enter the mouth of a Tiger shark at first sight.

Your sizes are also extremely informative and not at all vexing. I specifically enjoy the 6-12 month size which makes it really easy to figure out whether or not the item will fit. Any sort of clue you could give us here? Are we talking closer to 6 or closer to 12? That range is the difference between your child looking like a 1920’s baseball player or Lance Bass at an ecstasy foam party. I’d like to know whether or not I’m about to hogtie my child or see him disappear altogether in a plume of excess onesie. I get it. The chicks always go for the mysterious type. You want to keep your elusive appeal. But going forward, any chance you could throw us some sort of surreptitious bone here? Perhaps a code of some sort? Pretty sure you could stitch a man-eating falcon, poisonous scorpion, or saber-toothed t-Rex with one eyebrow pointing to the west to indicate one direction or another, no?

Lastly, I did want to thank you for helping my child gain flexibility. We deny the laws of physics nightly attempting to get his leg into the foot hole of his onesie. You’ve conveniently put two centimeters of fabric on one leg which a blind man with hoofs for hands could maneuver into, yet on the other side you’ve opted to put 70 centimeters fabric. This requires cunning strategy and your child’s ability to bend his leg mid-tibia in order to successfully enter the foot hole. Great for orthopedic surgeons putting a family of 14 through graduate school…bad for dads. Luckily due to my shortcomings, my son can now easily stretch his hamstring to his scapula which will help him earn the role of Gumby should a remake come to fruition at some point in his lifetime. So… thanks.

Overall, you’ve opened up a whole new world of carefree deadly animals, bones I previously thought weren’t bendable, and how to get down to the epidermis in my index fingers using only buttons. And for this I thank you.

Regards,

Pampers n’ Pints

Ps – As usual with most complaint letters it is customary to include a beer review so I’ve done so below. I trust you’ll enjoy.

Mama Little Yella Pils

Brewed by  Oskar Blues Brewery Lyons, Colorado USA

Style Czech Pilsener

ABV 5.30%

I’m not sure who Mama is or if she even approves of drinking, but she is representing a pretty solid pilsener. The brewery that brought us one of the first great canned beers – Dales Pale Ale has added to their aluminum repertoire and can easily be found outside of its home state of Colorado. This golden thirst-quencher is a perfect daytime session beer and guaranteed to put a smile on your town’s can lady. Drink responsibly but with great vigor.