A spoonful of sugar helps, does it fuck
Billie (aged four and half) has anaemia. To rectify this, we have to administer seven mils of medicine to her daily for six weeks. No amount of bribery, from promised visits to castles through to open access to the entire Argos catalogue, has induced her to open her clamped shut mouth. We have had to resort to holding her with a towel round her and trying to squirt the damn stuff into her mouth with a syringe. Of course, like the seasoned professional that she is, she holds it in her mouth and spits it all out as soon as we let go.
How I marvel at the parents who have to go through far worse medication administration with their kids. Of course, like every other problem with our kids, the fault lies with us, especially me. I always let them off anything horrible or difficult if it means having aggro. Anything for a quiet life, and then of course, it all blows up in our faces, with kids that won’t do what they’re told and totally rule the house. A great example is how Steve and I have watched the amazing Olympics perched on two hard, kitchen chairs watching a tiny portable tv, while the kids recline on two enormous sofas watching Scooby Doo over and over again courtesy of the Tivo.