Thankful Thursday - Nutella

This post on what I'm thankful for will not ring with any sound of familiarity for some of you. However, others will understand completely. Here's your test to see under which category you will fall. It's a series of questions. If you answer "yes" to any of them, you will totally get it.

Have you ever stood for more than half an hour waiting for your child to take medication? Have you ever sworn to yourself that this time, with this particular dose of Omnicef, you will keep your cool and not berate your child in the hopes that he will submissively swallow the liquid? Have you tossed that promise out the window twenty minutes later and threatened to hold your precious bundle of love down on the floor, straddle him (or her), cram the medicine dispenser spoon down his throat, clamp his mouth shut, and then blow on his nose like you do to get your dog to swallow its pills? Have you ever made your child cry because of your inept and, in hindsight, downright mean attempts at "making" him take a pill?

Early last week was terrible for Bruce, me and Clay. Clay has an ear infection, and he hates taking medicine. Always has. Last year, each of the five times he had strep, this son of mine would look his pediatrician right in the eye and ask him if he could have a shot instead of a prescription for medication. And he'd take the shot without flinching. (I don't even know if they offer a shot to get rid of ear infections. I wish I'd asked.)

We got a caplet version of Omnicef because the nurse said we could open the caplet and sprinkle the medicine on food or in a drink. Clay was willing to try. I was sold! Oh, but the best laid plans...

The stuff just tastes foul. (I know because I stuck my finger in it and licked it, hoping to tell him it wasn't that bad. But it really was that bad.) We sprinkled it on Go-Gurt. Not yummy. We poured it on peanut butter. Even less tasty. We kept the caplet whole and tried to see if he could swallow it inside a tablespoon of peanut butter. This was particularly messy and lots of gagging ensued. By both of us.

All three of us would be strung out, near tears, by the end of it. The first time, it took 30 minutes. The second attempt took 40 minutes. For the third try, we left the kitchen completely and told Clay he could come out after he took his medicine, but that he had to stay at the kitchen table until he did. We gave up after an hour and tried the equally unpleasant Plan B, which involved even more peanut butter.

And then pure genius struck. My kids love this stuff.

No surprise. It's spreadable chocolate. What's not to love?

My brothers and I ate it on rye bread or Semmel (a kind of hoagie-type roll) in Germany. I found it at a local grocery here a few years ago, and now my kids dip pretzels in it for a snack.

Tomorrow is Clay's last day of medication.

I am thankful for Nutella. Because a tablespoon of that stuff surely does make the medicine go down in the most delightful way.

And again, I'm thankful for forgiveness from God (and from our kids) when we have those "Bad Mom" or "Bad Dad" moments.