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365 bedtime stories

Chapter 17: JANUARY 15: The Medicine Bottle
By Mary Graham Bonner
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About This Book

A year-long anthology of short, child-focused tales presenting one brief story for each day, blending animal fables, household incidents, seasonal scenes, and gentle fantasy. Stories are arranged by calendar day and often reflect the moods and activities of the seasons, holidays, and everyday childhood experiences. Narratives favor simple plots, quiet humor, and mild moral lessons suitable for bedtime reading, frequently featuring talking creatures, helpful fairies, and small domestic adventures. Numerous small illustrations accompany the text, reinforcing the warm, comforting tone and making the collection convenient to read aloud or share with young listeners.

JANUARY 15: The Medicine Bottle

“If you think my life is a pleasant one,” said the Medicine Bottle, “I’ll tell you from the start that it isn’t.

“In the first place I was in the doctor’s office. I saw the people quake and shake when they were told they had to take some bitter medicine. I don’t suppose they really shook as much as I thought they did, but I was standing quite still at the time and they seemed to make a great deal of fuss.

“Then I heard some one say,

“‘Doctors give us horrible stuff,
When we think we’re sick enough,
But after all they make us well,
And this fact, too, I think we should tell.’

“Then some one else said,

“‘I wonder if the doctor has taken
From the medicine bottle which must be shaken.
It’s hard to swallow it and be held by the nose
While we get down the horrible dose.’

“Such are the things I’ve heard,” said the Medicine Bottle.

“Did all the people speak like that?” asked the little White Pills.

“They didn’t speak in rhyme like that,” said the Medicine Bottle, “but those were the things they said which I’ve changed into rhymes.

“A medicine bottle must have something to cheer it up at times.

“Yes, I’ll tell you my life is not a pleasant one. I’m never greeted with a smile. Fancy that, White Pills! I’m never greeted with a smile.

“Here I sit on the mantelpiece and three times a day I am taken down and shaken as though they’d like to kill me, I do believe, and then with groans or tears or complaints I’m swallowed. Or rather, some of the medicine from me is swallowed. It’s a terrible life that I lead!”