“You fill the syringe, slide it into the side of her mouth against her cheek, and push the plunger slowly so she doesn’t cough or gag.

Then you write the exact time, the dose, and your initials in this column.”

Ethan set the tip of the pen on the top white square of the logbook.

“Eight o’clock.”

“Her temperature goes in this middle section,” I said.

“Anything over 101 means you give her infant acetaminophen, which is in the medicine cabinet above the bathroom sink.

You log that dose right next to her temperature reading.”

“Understood,” Ethan repeated, writing the words in neat, careful block letters in the left margin of the page.