Haha, poor kid! I was that kid. I distinctly remember at about age 5 getting a glass splinter in my foot and shrieking that I would deal with it and for my parents not to come anywhere near me. They shrugged, told me to do it and get myself off to school with my sister, and headed off to play tennis (hey, it was the 70s). They came home to find me still sitting staring intently at the splinter trying to will it out of my foot. My dad was so exasperated he turned me upside down by my ankle and whipped it out with the tweezers while I writhed around and shrieked like a banshee.
I survived. He will too, even if you pin him down, although if you can get that splinter goo it sounds great (yay for progress).

Good luck, to both of you.