There is a dropper coming at me. I fight it off with my small hands. I hate the taste. I don't know why it's being shoved into my mouth, but it keeps coming. Pink powdery ooze goes down my throat. I'd lost. I'd been dosed and started to cry. My arms flail in the effect to protest my reaction to the bad taste. Ick. Yuck.
The penicillin saved my life. At 8 months, I had strep throat and didn't know why I needed the medicine. People say you can't remember things when you are a baby. But it is the clearest first memory I have. When I was older, I was told about what had happened. Then I related this memory, which had never made sense to me until that point.
Next time when you talk and play with any baby, think about what their memory might be.