A Spoonful Of Sugar

Last week I posted about taking Jensen to the doctor’s office. This was a new doctor, who was unfamiliar with what it takes to deal with Jensen, the human tornado. Jensen began The Screaming the minute we entered the waiting room, and The Screaming didn’t cease until we were safely deposited outside the medical office building.

Everyone was flustered. The staff, the elderly patients who shared the waiting room with us, and the Doctor was particularly shaken. I was impressed with the speed in which they ushered me out of the waiting room, and into the examining room. The Doctor was especially expedient with his examination.

While the Doctor was examining (and I use the term “examining” loosely as I’m not sure he ever actually was able to touch Jensen) his little patient, he remarked that I might try to give him DHA for Kids, found at the local health food store. The Doctor told me that this might help “calm” Jensen down. “Really?” I said weakly as my voice quivered slightly, watching my diaper clad boy bounce from one door to the other, and then drop to his belly to taste the flooring. I do remember at that point the Doctor adding, “If you can get it in him.”

If you’ll recall, I made a beeline for the health food store and purchased a bottle of this magic elixir. DHA is a dietary supplement which is “EFA support for learning, attention and concentration.” But like I said before, it’s really nasty tasting. I consider myself pretty adept at hiding needed nutrients in Jensen’s food. Things like vitamins and vegetables. I didn’t fear this medicine. And I only needed to administer 1/2 teaspoon, twice a day. Child’s play for me. First I hid it in his beloved yogurt. The wall ended up wearing the yogurt. Next I put 1/4 teaspoon in his cottage cheese. Same result. Milk? Pushed it away and gave me a look like he was on to the fact that I was trying to poison him. The apple sauce was rejected as well.

I was whining to my husband about all that I’d gone through to try to get his son to swallow this vile concoction. He said, with conviction, “I’ll get it into him.” “How?” I laughed heartily. Fiddledaddy went to the cabinet, extracted two medicine syringes, and filled one with 1/2 teaspoon of the dreaded syrup.

Novice. And so confident. “I want tickets for this show,” I snickered.

But then I watched as he filled the other syringe with pancake syrup. Interesting approach. Intrigued I followed Fiddledaddy into Jensen’s room, and watched while he wrestled his son onto the changing table. He held the two syringes with one hand, and hog tied Jensen with the other hand. Before Junior could open his mouth to protest, Fiddledaddy had both syringes working, depositing the medicine, then following with a shooter of pancake syrup. It worked. All the medicine was in the boy. And the parents and walls were still clean.

I witnessed a miracle. I was greatly humbled. And impressed with Fiddledaddy. I’ve even gotten to the point where I can give the boy his medicine with no objections. As long as I have that chaser of pancake syrup.

I have a huge glimmer of hope that the DHA Oil is working, as Jensen is using more words, and his baby signs. However, I must report a bit of a setback, as the nursery workers at our church will attest to. There was an “incident” on Sunday. And that’s another post for another day.