Since we’ve been talking about Vicks VapoRub, I thought I’d share a couple of funny stories. I may have told these on here before but I’ll tell them again. I come from a long line of Vicks users. Our whole family is addicted to the stuff.
My dad’s mom was old in my first memories of her. There were 7 kids, plus a couple more that died as children. My dad was the youngest. My grandma had given up housekeeping and would spend a few weeks with each of her children and their families. She would ride the Greyhound bus from one location to the next. When she came to our house, she slept on the sofa and there was an end table at one end of the sofa. My grandma stuck her Vicks in the drawer and we all went to bed. In the middle of the night, my mom and dad heard her scream and they went racing into the living room. Granny had reached into the drawer, retrieved her Vicks, held it over her head to open it . . but . . she had grabbed mom’s bottle of ink instead of the jar of Vicks so when she opened it over her head, all that ink poured out onto her head, the pillow and the sofa.
Next story . . when Chad was about 3, I had put him to bed. After a while, I heard some commotion in his room. We were living in Jasper, Texas and had a one story house with a very long hallway. As I walked down the hall, the closer I got to his room, the strong the smell . . Vicks VapoRub! I always called it Vicks Salve because that’s what my grandparents called it. When I got into Chad’s room, his eyes were watering and he said “I used your Vicks Sapper”. He had it from head to toe, all over his sheets, all over his clothes, even on the wall beside his bed. He kept saying “My *private part* (insert 3 year old terms) burns!” One of us took Chad to the bath tub and we scrubbed and scrubbed and it took forever to get him halfway “Vicks free”. The other stripped the bed, began scrubbing the walls . .
In the end, it was just another funny memory but when it was happening, I was seriously questioning my parenting skills.