Yabba Dabba Doo

I seem to be morally opposed to taking vitamins if they appear in any other shape than Fred and Wilma Flintstone, probably because I took them as a child, and I remember the tart, chalky taste lingering on my tongue and lodging in my teeth grooves. The red ones and purple ones were my favorite, but if I had to suffer an orange or green, I suppose I made do. With my mother's brand of diligence however, we rarely took them daily, only perhaps weekly or however often she happened to lay eyes on the bottle and say "oh yeah, you guys should probably eat one of these." If I am currently iron and/or B12 deficient, I'm blaming it on the far from daily intake of Fred and Wilma.

My pregnant friend recently told me her nails were a lot stronger than before, and she guessed it was on account of all the vitamins she was taking. I felt a sharp, grass green pang. I should be taking vitamins. I hear they're good for you. So on my toilet paper trip to Rite Aid today, I took a gander in the vitamin aisle and found no box so appealing as the orange one with FLINTSTONES tattooed across the front in prehistoric white lettering. Fred was even there, looking ridiculously thrilled that I had picked up his vitamins. "Is this childish?" I asked myself. Should grown-ups take these? Would it even make a dent in my bloodstream, or would it be akin to eating a jar of baby food for dinner as opposed to an adult serving of pasta? Lo and behold, directions for both 2 & 3 years of age and 4 years of age & older were on the back. Score! as I do believe I fall into the latter category. They even contain choline, a pretty vital nutrient found in breast milk, and it could be the lack thereof post eight months out of the womb that accounts for rampant stupidity. Hooray for choline! Check. Increased mental acuity, here I come...