I do not have the best coping skills--and I'm concerned this trait has reproduced itself in my daughter.
Having read nothing about antibiotics, I thought it would be a genius move to disguise amox-clav in a cup of Lactaid. My daughter took one sip and threw her cup to the floor. In fact, the "disguise" method can backfire--because your child then rejects *both* the medicine and the life-sustaining milk that you try to give to her.
I attempt sing-song cheeriness; I attempt loud, exaggerated empathy; I attempt effusive praise. Eventually, I grow weary, and I try to level with my daughter: "This drug just isn't all that bad." (My spouse objects to this approach; quietly, he says, "Listen, she is gagging.")
I do think that my daughter is wonderfully literary; she has a fondness for Sandra Boynton that seems off-the-charts. (If you try to tell me that every child in America has this same level of fondness, I will politely disagree.)
I'm on a campaign to "sell" Susie on Tomie dePaola; I've selected one of his final books, "In a Small Kingdom," which is a parable about Donald Trump and Hillary Clinton. Susie has reservations, but, also, she isn't two yet; I think, in terms of dePaola, she will "get there."
We're also enjoying Doug Salati's illustrations for the writer Matthew Farina--and I'll leave a few of those pictures here. Happy Presidents' Day.
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