A Letter to Ellie

Dear Ellie,

I know you have an ear infection. I know your ear hurts. I know you are cranky. I know that medicine that you have to take is disgusting. Just the smell makes me gag, so I can imagine how it tastes. And do they have to make it so thick? It’s like bubblegum scented gravy. Geez. With all of the advances we’ve made—the iPhone, ibuprofen, Frappuccinnos, there just has to be another, better way.

But for now, there isn’t. And since I’d really like for you to not get, oh what are we on now, ear infection #7?--I’ve lost count—but anyway, since I’d like to stop you from getting another one or at least to get rid of the one you have, will you please, please take the medicine?

I know it’s just an ear infection, but last night Ellie was horrifically cranky. It seemed like she still wasn’t feeling any better, even after four solid days on an antibiotic. She does this new thing now where when she wants me to pick her up she cries and whines and stands at my feet and actually holds on to my legs and tries to turn me around to face her. But there are moments, say when I am cooking her and her brother dinner when I just cannot hold her.

I wish she would understand that we can help her. That if she'd just take that dreadful muck she would actually feel better. There's nothing more frustrating (well, I can probably think of a few more things but you get my point...) than knowing there is a way that you can make your child feel better, and yet they fight you on it. She is a willful little one, this girl. She turns her head and locks her jaw, and then when you do get the medicine in, watch out for the Oscar worthy perforance of dramatic gagging and coughing (what's next? Her head spinning around?).

Yesterday morning she woke up at 5:30 a.m. and didn’t nap too long so by the time I had her she was m-i-s-e-r-a-b-l-e. She did pull a bit of a Woody Allen in "Annie Hall" (the scene where he’s too sick to perform but still manages to work up an appetite for white meat chicken) when I presented her with a bowl of Annie’s mac and cheese. She ate it voraciously, followed by her other favorite: grape tomatoes in vinaigrette. I would like to think that because she still has an appetite that she is getting better.

I. just. wish. she’d. take. the. medicine.