Who the heck is mixing it up at baby Motrin?

I don’t know who is designing the flavors of kids medicine, but I can’t see how they are doing any taste tests. When you have to set the alarm for 2 in the morning to give a dose, it’s the moment of truth, and the truth at this house is, I have no friends in the flavor department of children’s medicine. There is work to be done in the department of fever reducers and cough looseners, I’ll tell you that. Ferdinand would just as much want to eat a piece of liver in a chicken suit with candy flavored toe nails, than take down any of it–the Motrin, the Tylenol, the chewables, the Robotussin–and I just hope that nobody tells me today that that’s their particular line of business.

The menu for tonight is old bread left over from yesterday to put in the toaster and some Clifford cereal and I think I might have raisins and possibly ice cream that I forgot was in the freezer. That’s for me. Ferd’s not eating and Jonathan will have to fight me for whatever I find.

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