When it comes to discerning taste buds, I was pretty sure I’d pass that trait down to my kids. I remember my first date with my partner, where I insisted on dining at a diner known for its acceptable chicken fingers. I didn’t even touch a salad until my twenties and only tried strawberries in 2009. Over time, I’ve made an effort to sample new foods, even revisiting some that once made me cringe. Today, I’m a grown woman who enjoys a balanced diet, including Brussels sprouts—something my younger self would have found utterly revolting.
Yet, despite my culinary evolution, some things will never be easy to swallow, like that grape-flavored liquid medicine. Even at 30, I can’t seem to convince myself to down that stuff, so I can’t blame my little one for acting as if I’m offering him poison when it’s time for his cough syrup.
As a baby, administering medicine was a breeze. A little tilt back, his mouth would open, and in went the syringe filled with that honey-flavored nonsense. Fast forward to when he started asserting his autonomy, and I had to rethink my approach. Bribery became my new strategy—something I never imagined I would resort to as a parent. Promises of candy, screen time, and toys became part of my daily routine to ensure he’d take his meds.
However, I quickly realized that kids are perpetually sick, and I couldn’t keep draining our savings on medicine, sweets, and toys. So, it was back to square one.
I tried being authoritative: “You need to take this medicine; you’re not leaving the table until you do.” This led to an epic standoff that lasted almost two hours, yielding no results. I attempted gentleness, saying, “Sweetheart, this medicine is important. Let’s cuddle and I’ll help you.” Yet, he saw through my kindness, scoffed, and sealed his lips tight.
I even resorted to fibbing. “This stuff is like liquid candy, buddy! Super tasty!” But he wasn’t buying it. At what age do kids become smarter than their parents? It felt like a deadlock; my son would never take his medicine, and I’d be condemned to sleepless nights with a snotty toddler.
Then, I decided to get creative. I set him up at the table with a cookie, some juice, and his medicine. I laid it out plainly: “I know this medicine tastes yucky. But this juice is delicious, and this cookie is awesome, so we’re going to do this.”
Suddenly, I was hit with a wave of nostalgia, reminiscent of high school parties where I’d hide a soda to wash down the cheap liquor. I began drumming on the table, building a rhythm that caught his attention. He looked puzzled but joined me, and soon we were laughing and banging away, turning the moment into a fun distraction.
“Alright, buddy, here’s the plan: you’re going to take that medicine, chug your juice, and then devour the cookie. Easy peasy.”
With no resistance, he followed my lead, downing the medicine, gulping the juice, and devouring the cookie like a champ. It felt like a parenting win, even if I did inadvertently teach my three-year-old a shot-taking technique.
As I reflect on this experience, I can only hope that when he turns 21, he’ll approach his first drink with a smile and say, “Juice and cookie, please.” For more insights on navigating parenthood and medicine battles, check out this article on our blog.
In summary, while getting your toddler to take medicine can feel like an uphill battle, sometimes a little creativity and fun can transform the experience. It’s all about finding what works for your family and making the process a little less daunting.
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