Monday, March 28, 2011

Blue streak

Quite a while ago, the girls had decided that they no longer liked liquid medicine so we switched to the chewable Tylenol and Advil.  Things had gone fairly smoothly ever since ... until yesterday.  Ginny, in her full blown fever-induced rational state, decided she wasn't taking the chewable Tylenol.  I had already figured out how much of CeCe's infant stuff she would need based on her weight once, but now we were out of that too.  Julie told her how when she was little her Mom would grind up the pills and put them with a spoonful of jam.  This seemed a reasonable alternative, and she accepted.  My Mom did that too, but I was grateful when I learned how to just swallow the pills.  Anyhow, we decided that we could all use a little fresh air in the late afternoon, so we went to Superstore to get a few things (one of them being liquid Advil).  Ginny decided that she would like the blue raspberry flavour.  Whatever.  We bought the large $15 bottle just to make sure this didn't happen again.  She seemed to like it and Jorja was intrigued by it, so she wanted to try it as well.  She will be sticking to the chewable tablets.  Let me say that this stuff is blue!  Like toxic glowing radioactive waste blue.

Fast forward to this evening.  I was getting something for Jorja not really paying attention to Ginny when I think she said she was going to open her medicine.  I wasn't really paying attention, but I said sure.  She wasn't supposed to get the lid off.  It's childproof right?  Wrong.  I turned around to see a blue streak from one end of the bathroom to the other.  And that wasn't the one coming out of my mouth.  She was standing there holding the bottle, blue radioactive goo dripping from her cheek and a look of shock/awe/fear/disbelief/whathaveIjustdone on her face.  Then came the tears.  What could I do?  I hugged her and told her it was an accident and that I would clean it up.  She felt terrible.  To top it all off, when I was tucking her in tonight she looked up at me, her bottom lip quivering ever so slightly, and said, "Daddy, I won't spill my medicine tomorrow."  She definitely knows how to get to me.  I could have cried.  Later.

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