As my son continues to grow taller, his reach also extends. In fact, almost nothing on the kitchen table is safe anymore.
This means he just might swipe his bottle of antibiotics when I'm not looking. This in turn means a good hour plus of searching for those antibiotics, a frantic call to the pharmacy for a refill (which, turns out, isn't yet covered by insurance since it's too soon after the original fulfillment) and freaking out about what's going to happen to his pneumonia if his next dose of z-pak is 12 hours off schedule.
It may also mean that daddy finds said antibiotics tucked away in the Christmas tree box (which daddy has to repack since mama cannot physically fit that dang tree in there).
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