Pink ain't always sweet

Reminiscing about my childhood years, I remembered this story of when I was very young, probably around 5 or less. Because I've never pretended to have an outstanding long-term memory, a lot of details are omitted.

There was something going on inside my mouth, blisters or something hurtful. The mean doctor prescribed some sort of spray, all I remember is that it tasted like hell, and it was pink. The one moment I remember includes running as if chased by demons, and my parents following me all around the house. I must have been very fast, because it took them a while to catch up with me. I then shut my mouth tight, and as they struggled to open it, I darted through an open space and began the high-speed chase again.

When they finally caught me, 4 arms surrounded me. Defeat was inevitable. However, at the very second the spray was released into my forcibly-opened mouth, Jo (my dear stuffed bear), showed his loyalty and took the hit, as I put him in front of my face.