Adventures of a Dutch Nomad
Saturday, 25 April 2015
Poppers are pure evil. Fact.
Any father can attest to this. They are the devils own. How anybody does not go completely mental from these little f*cking snap buttons is beyond me.
They're called poppers because you need to be high as a kite to have the patience to deal with them. Whoever decided to riddle every piece of baby clothing with them should be shot.
I'm convinced I have developed popperitis. The inability to close a popper. It's a bit like dartitis, where a dart player can't let go of their darts. But then worse.
Velcro is the way forward. Simple.
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