Flintstones Children’s Multi-Vitamins. Apparently, these were my favorite candy as a child. Even though they aren’t candy. What does Bayer expect when they make these delightful little character shaped guys taste like fruity goodness? It’s like an explosion of deliciousness in your mouth. I’m sorry. But you cannot have just one. Nope. Not when you are 4.
The story goes like this: We lived on an Army base at the time. I somehow managed to find my way to the stash of Flintstones in our kitchen. Because I was in the mood for sharing. And that’s what I did. I shared. I sat in a circle with a few of the other Army people offspring in my neighborhood and I rationed them out right there in plain sight. Under the swing set. Yup, I did. Emptied out the entire bottle. Right into the mouths of all my little followers.
It’s really very simple. We OD’d on Fred, Wilma and Betty. Could you imagine the headline? “Four year old Flintstone dealer murders her fellow tots by brainwashing them to overdose on Bam-Bam.” Try to live THAT one down.
Needless to say, no one died. In fact, the only mother who seemed a bit concerned was my own. I was rushed to the hospital where they pumped my stomach. Actually. No. That didn’t happen. Sounded exciting though, didn’t it? I was rushed to the hospital. Where I was forced to eat bread. To absorb the iron or something to that line. The other mothers weren’t concerned. They were just gonna sit back and see if anything happened. Maybe they were waiting for rainbow colored vomit? Who knows. But we all survived.
Did it make me swear off the Flintstone forever? Nope. When The Kid was small, I would sneak them into my mouth. But no more than 2 a day. Sometimes 4. If it was a particularly rough one. Five. Tops.
This blog post was inspired by Mama Kat’s writing prompt: A favorite candy when you were a child