They Never Tell You Things Like This

(if you came over from our Outflow group, this is not the post you are looking for - go down to the "Blessed" one.)

I'm not really sure who "they" is, but whoever they are, they never tell you a lot of stuff. For some reason while I was driving down the road today and passed a Walgreen's, I was reminded of a story I hadn't thought of in a long time.


When Levi was 3, he got a nasty virus, and he was running a very high fever. And when Levi runs a fever, he throws up. And so if he throws up, he can't keep anything down - even Tylenol that would bring his fever down. Well, his fever was high enough that we really needed it to come down, so our doctor told us we needed to give him a Tylenol suppository.


I will never forget this moment. Here's our poor little child, all pale and sickly, and he was already naked since he had just thrown up all over himself, so we were all in the bathroom, him standing there, pale, naked, burning with fever and covered in chill bumps, shivering, just looking at us. And Steve and I are standing there, holding this little suppository, and just looking from him to each other, like how the heck are we going to do this?


We actually went through some different scenarios, "Um, Levi? Mommy is going to give you some medicine that will make you feel all better, but she is going to have to stick it in your bottom." I could just picture the look of abject horror and the desperate attempts to escape that that would evoke. No, that was not going to work.


It's not like he was a baby, where you could just do it, and it would all be over and he wouldn't even question it. He was 3 now, and he understood things. Maybe we should just hold him down and bend him over one of our laps, while the other one shoves it in, um, I mean places it gingerly in. But then he would think he was getting a spanking for no reason while he was desperately sick, and he would flail and clinch, and make it nearly impossible.


So, there we stood, holding our little instrument of torture and relief, unsure of what to do to make this happen. Finally, Steve had a moment of brilliance that made me question if I really knew him as well as I thought I did - had he spent some time in prison that I didn't know about? I still wonder. He threw a toy on the far side of the bathtub, and casually asked Levi to reach over there and get it. While Levi was reaching over there to get it, quick as lightning, he put that medicine right where it belonged. Levi hopped up quickly, howling, holding his bottom, and looking at us with eyes of betrayal. I have to be honest that I was laughing so hard it made me look extremely guilty, and also made it very hard to comfort the poor little violated guy.


But you know, it worked. He got better, and we never mentioned it again. And I like to think that somewhere, deep in his subconscious, he learned a valuable lesson that will serve him well if, God forbid, he ever ends up in prison!