Jewel loves cough drops.
Before you call child protective services, screaming about choking hazards, inappropriate medication and an over-mentholated child, let me explain.
This allergy season has been a terrible one for me for some reason. Perhaps because spring came during winter and everything that normally blooms from April through June bloomed in March. Whatever the reason, I’ve been congested and sniffling and hacking for weeks now, especially at night.
Since Jewel still sleeps in our room, on my side of the bed, which puts her about 36 inches from my stuffed head, that means that any night I spend coughing, I spend on the couch.
As much as I love our couch, I’d much rather go to a bed when I go to bed. So, just before bedtime, I dose myself up and then spread out a half dozen cough drops on my bedside table. This is the same table that Jewel lies next to when we change her out of her nighttime diaper in the morning and after her nap, change her into her diaper before her nap and bedtime, and read her stories before bedtime.
If I’ve left any cough drops there, Jewel immediately grabs them and starts to unwrap them to offer them to me. “Daddy, here’s your medicine,” she’ll say, extending a sticky hand with a cough drop in the middle of it. We’ve told her they’re medicine and will make her sick, so she doesn’t gobble them all up as candy.
See…we can be good parents sometimes.
While it’s sometimes nice to have her distracted by the unwrapping when we want her to lay still, we do end up with cough drops stuck around the house, so I’ve learned to scoop them all off the bedside table when I get up…in the dark, an hour and a half before she does so as not to wake her prematurely.
Ah…the things we do for love.
The other night, however, she managed to find a cough drop somewhere and was trying to unwrap it while I was trying to convince her to lie down for her bottle and stories at bedtime. Without looking up, she said, “Wait. I’m concentrating.”
I’m not sure which required more concentration–the unwrapping or the word “concentrating.” Although, the word did roll off her tongue pretty easily.
Of course I waited for her to unwrap it, toss the wrapper onto our sheets, then stretch out her hand with the cough drop stuck to the middle of it, a proud smile stretched across her face. “Here you go, Daddy. Here’s your medicine.”
The things she does for love.