Encouraging adequate nutrition for picky school-age and teenage boys can be a tricky endeavor. And for this land-locked prairie family, we have not been very adept at ‘getting our fish on”, so to speak. In summer we will grill a cedar plank salmon and we partake in tuna melts a couple of times each month, but certainly not enough to meet the recommendations of the powers that be.
So naturally, being the stellar mother that I am, I recently popped down to the local pharmacy to look into our options for omega-3 supplements. Now to be clear, we live in a small town and there is no Walmart nearby, so we are somewhat limited in selection here (and when I get a brilliant idea, I need to make it happen TODAY!). I had heard and seen that gummies were an option, but there were none to be found. I browsed the capsule options and was a little doubtful that my 8 and 11 year olds would be able to make that happen.
Call it my lucky day, but lo, out of the corner of my eye, I spied a bottle with a flashy banner – “AMAZING TASTE!! LIME COCONUT”. Now, being a lover of all things lime, I was quickly lured to this bottled goodness. I had visions of my boys shouting accolades, “Wow Mom, this is so great! I love this!Can we have more??”
I paid ($24, but that’s such a good price for liquid gold, right?) and quickly drove home to share my discovery. Two of my lads were sitting in the kitchen and I offered it to them then and there. I poured the scented liquid into a medicine cup, its golden radiance sliding smoothly out of the bottle. I poured myself a teaspoon too, not wanting to be left out of the imminent celebration. Bottoms up, boys!
Behold! Son-the-middle exclaimed joy – meeting my expectations and fuelling my joy! Well done, son! You have an Omega-3 filled future!
Son-the-eldest was less than impressed. Some coughing ensued, and a proclamation that the first sip would also be the last. Undeterred, I was certain his teenage taste buds were just being rebellious.
Finally, and with great flourish, I raised the cup to my lips and tipped my head back to receive the blessing. And promptly gagged, dry-heaving as the slimy oil slid down my throat despite my involuntary objections. Coughing and sputtering I lumbered to the kitchen sink, expelling the vile ooze quickly and violently, my Oscar-worthy performance accompanied by the howling laughter of my audience. It was hours before those lime-coconut burps finally subsided, and I reluctantly accepted the inevitable. There is no way to disguise fish oil. Because it’s oil and drinking oil is disgusting.
Consider yourself warned, but then again, you probably already knew that.
Wind and Bone 