Tommy had to take a benadryl. I had long ago given up on getting him to swallow the liquid stuff. He had somehow turned his throat into a shooting mechanism and could cough it right back at me as I forced it past his uvula. So I bought some solid adult-dosage pills, broke them in half to get the right dosage for his age, and was going to hide one in his ice cream. I was so clever.
He would eat any bite of the ice cream except the one I put the benadryl in! "Don't you want this bite?" I would ask.
"No, you eat it."
"It's melting. Better gobble it up right now."
I fed it to him and watched it slide right back out onto the spoon, painfully close to melting and exposing the hidden pill.
"Pleeeeease eat this bite of ice cream. It's the bestest bite!"
"You eat it, Mommy."
Finally, after a while more of this, he just spit the damn glob of cookies and cream onto the floor and I threw it away. Desperate, I tried the impossible. I showed him the other half of the benadryl and asked him, "Will you please eat this?"
He popped it in his mouth and chewed it up, then gave me a look as if to say, "I only ask that you be honest with me. Is that too much to ask?" He chewed a pill. Who does that?!