Ronan is finally better, just a little cough left. I still have to force feed him liquid amoxicillin for three more days. This involves me pinning down most of his body by throwing my right leg across his torso, holding his left hand down with mind, and simultaneously tilting his head up and to the side and slowing pushing the plunger on the syringe. Yeah, it's not pretty. Not that I can blame him for putting up a fight -- when I first opened the bottle, a deluge of childhood trauma was unleashed just from remembering the smell. I'm glad our parents took care of us with proper medicines. But seriously, they couldn't have changed the chalk smell after all these years?
Anyway, I'm glad to have my boy back to his old self -- temper tantrums, deaf ears, and all.
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