Bad Medicine
The kids are still sick. That means Abbie gets her favorite treat: Medicine. Our sweet girl who still won’t eat pizza or cake will run to my side whenever I so much as bump a medicine jar. She’ll look at me with the same expression the dog has when I dig in her treat jar. The dog at least has the self-control to not climb on me, though. We bought her some chewable vitamins several months ago, not knowing how she’d react to the chalky taste. It turns out she loves their delicious medicine flavor, and today I need only rattle the jar to call her into her bedtime routine.
I assumed it was the same with all children, that they all love cherry flavor, bubble gum flavor, and, um, Benadryl flavor. I just need to fill the medicine dropper, hold it over their heads, and they’ll prop their jaws open baby bird style.
In reality, our boys hate medicine. Ellie tells me this is the joy of raising children, watching them develop into their own individuals. I see her point, but I was hoping this meant our children would rank the various flavors differently on an awesomeness scale from 1 to 10. Say, Ian would put Benadryl at a 9, Tory would put it at just a 7, while Abbie would put it at 11. Instead our uniquely individual children put Benadryl at an 11 for Abbie, 1 for Tory, and negative Avogadro’s number for Ian.
It took me a few tries to determine the ideal way to administer this liquid candy, or liquid death depending on the point of view. I have one medicine dropper, one medicine bottle, and three sick children. Everyone takes medicine at the same time, which is right before they sleep as it makes them drowsy and helps everyone enjoy a good sleep. I’m giving three consecutive doses, but I don’t want to stick the same dropper into three germy mouths, putting the contaminated dropper back in the bottle between each mouth. All that medicine backwash can’t be good for the medicine’s constitution.
My first idea was to give Abbie the medicine dropper after filling nipples with medicine for the boys, and let them drink it like milk from a bottle. I soon realized this trick only works when the boys want to consume the nipple’s contents. Tory had no problem chugging down the medicine since he loves sucking on bottles. He’s been known to suck the semi-congealed undissolved powder chunks through the nipple. Ian gives up easier, especially when he senses I’m trying to poison him.
My next idea was to drop the medicine on a baby spoon, and let them eat it like solids. I figured that if they’d take my creamed spinach supreme off a spoon, they’d tolerate medicine. Tory will take anything off a spoon and ate it without complaint, though his expression said he’d prefer the spinach next time. Ian took it readily at first too, perhaps erroneously appreciating that I’d finally started giving him a bedtime banana snack. Then the medicine hit his tongue and he screamed. He might have hated the taste that much, or the sensation of Benadryl shooting into his sinuses as he gagged might have sent him crying. Either way the medicine was in his system, and I considered it a success. Hopefully they’ll enjoy medicine in chalky chewable form a little more.
I assumed it was the same with all children, that they all love cherry flavor, bubble gum flavor, and, um, Benadryl flavor. I just need to fill the medicine dropper, hold it over their heads, and they’ll prop their jaws open baby bird style.
In reality, our boys hate medicine. Ellie tells me this is the joy of raising children, watching them develop into their own individuals. I see her point, but I was hoping this meant our children would rank the various flavors differently on an awesomeness scale from 1 to 10. Say, Ian would put Benadryl at a 9, Tory would put it at just a 7, while Abbie would put it at 11. Instead our uniquely individual children put Benadryl at an 11 for Abbie, 1 for Tory, and negative Avogadro’s number for Ian.
It took me a few tries to determine the ideal way to administer this liquid candy, or liquid death depending on the point of view. I have one medicine dropper, one medicine bottle, and three sick children. Everyone takes medicine at the same time, which is right before they sleep as it makes them drowsy and helps everyone enjoy a good sleep. I’m giving three consecutive doses, but I don’t want to stick the same dropper into three germy mouths, putting the contaminated dropper back in the bottle between each mouth. All that medicine backwash can’t be good for the medicine’s constitution.
My first idea was to give Abbie the medicine dropper after filling nipples with medicine for the boys, and let them drink it like milk from a bottle. I soon realized this trick only works when the boys want to consume the nipple’s contents. Tory had no problem chugging down the medicine since he loves sucking on bottles. He’s been known to suck the semi-congealed undissolved powder chunks through the nipple. Ian gives up easier, especially when he senses I’m trying to poison him.
My next idea was to drop the medicine on a baby spoon, and let them eat it like solids. I figured that if they’d take my creamed spinach supreme off a spoon, they’d tolerate medicine. Tory will take anything off a spoon and ate it without complaint, though his expression said he’d prefer the spinach next time. Ian took it readily at first too, perhaps erroneously appreciating that I’d finally started giving him a bedtime banana snack. Then the medicine hit his tongue and he screamed. He might have hated the taste that much, or the sensation of Benadryl shooting into his sinuses as he gagged might have sent him crying. Either way the medicine was in his system, and I considered it a success. Hopefully they’ll enjoy medicine in chalky chewable form a little more.
posted by Matt at
11:50 PM
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