It’s five before midnight and I’m waiting for the alarm to ring. It was  a rough day. Anna Shetty was in  her usual morning rush  as she passed on Wow Dinga to me,  yelling out a warning ” He’s not well, here’s the Crocin “, and toodled off to anesthetise her first patient for the day. I wasn’t really surprised because the day before, I did feel that he was breathing a little heavily and had a growly chest.

With the monsoons playing hard to catch, the temperatures rising by the minute and the air stultifyingly humid, there were lots of dirty little viruses wandering around and I wasn’t surprised that one of the ugly little monsters decided to attack… …..

Like a little trooper, Wow Dinga  still climbed onto the sofa and marched from end to end albeit in Slo Mo. While I was happy he was moving, I was prepared for his fever to rise and rise it did. So just after his mid day meal, I poured out the required 6 ml of vile pink Crocin that  looked frighteningly a huge amount for a little boy to swallow. Obviously the manufacturers knew better,  because Wow Dinga judiciously turned his head away and I had to pour it into his mouth purely by instinct. I doubt he had more than 2ml of the dose.

By night time, the fever was worse and Wow’s dry cold was showing signs of becoming slightly damp and I prepared to spend my night holding him upright while he tried to catch a few winks. I was also prepared to administer the midnight dose more efficiently and poured out the medicine in a dispensing spoon with barely discernible markings. ( Anna Shetty pointed out that the markings were visible to young moms and not old grannies).

12.00  and the midnight hour is upon us. I grab the dispensing spoon, yank open the plug and put it into Wow’s mouth. I wait as not a drop has made its way into the spoon let alond Wow’s mouth. Horror of horrors – the  Crocin oral suspension was not suspended  but stuck to the side of the spoon! By now Wow is wide awake and resents the intrusion into his fragile sleep. He opens his mouth and begins to scream. Hubby Dear is wider awake now and begins his pacify the baby with passionate kisses and smoochy sounds routine. I try to avoid spilling the medicine and deftly put it  into Wow’s mouth in between kisses and before he tried to shut his mouth. Yipee! I did it. And before Wow can register his protest I plug his mouth with the pacifier. Pleases with this drug delivery system, I ask Hubby dear to pass on a towel which he does – dry as a bone – to wipe up the sticky mess. Needless to say, we go back to sleep pretty pleased that we had managed Wow well.

3.40 am .Obviously I had thought wrong because Wow keeps whimpering from time to time .
4.40 am – All is quiet. What’s wrong?  I look towards Wow and find a weird light coming from his face – ” Oh my God! He’s turning into a radio active pig, I think  as his pacifier glows in the dark. I reach out to re-assure myself that I was only hallucinating when I dislodge the glo-in-the-dark pacifier and Wow lets out a blood curdling yell. Hubby Dear at once begins his Kiss him quiet routine while I tried to calm him down by placing his head on my shoulder.  In all this, my mother in law comes padding in silently, her white hair glinting like a ghostly halo and suggests we give him some milk.

I resist the temptation of filling the bottle and prefer to change his diaper instead.