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“I don’t wanna take medicine, Daddy,” Will sniffled. He hugged Lamby tightly and turned his head away from the spoonful of disgusting purple liquid Hannibal held. “It’s yucky!”
“I know, elskede, but don’t you want to get better? This will help your cold, and you’ll be able to sleep without coughing so much.”
“No! Riley, help!”
The dog barely looked up at the call of her name. The dogs seemed to understand that Will was sick and Hannibal was only trying to help.
“Please take the medicine, Will,” Hannibal pleaded. “I’ll get you juice to wash away the taste.”
“Only juice, no medicine.”
Hannibal sighed as he got an idea. “Alright. Stay in bed.” He walked to the kitchen.
The last time Will had been sick, Hannibal just mixed his medicine into his sippy cups. It looks like his intuition to do so had been correct. He would do the same thing now.
Will was curled up in his bed with his dogs around him. Hannibal didn’t have the heart to tell the dogs to get off the bed. Will needed the comfort.
“Here you go, darling,” Hannibal said, holding out the sippy cup.
“Thanks, Daddy,” Will sniffed, sitting up slightly. “No medicine?”
“Not now. Maybe we’ll try later.”
Will grunted around the sippy cup and glared at Hannibal.
“Make sure you drink all of your juice, then try to take a nap.” Hannibal kissed Will’s forehead. “I love you.”
“Love you too, Daddy.”