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Ever since our 2-year-old son, Angus, stopped breast-feeding, my wife and I have served him milk in sippy cups. Now and then, we leave one in the bottom of a bag or the back seat of our car, only to find the receptacle days—or, in several memorable cases, weeks—later, the contents curdled and foul. A run through the dishwasher takes care of the cup, but when there’s a leak, we’re tempted to declare Angus lactose-intolerant and put him on a strict water diet. (For the record, it’s impossible to completely eliminate the odor of rancid milk from car upholstery.)

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