Leftover Popsicles

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“Want a popsicle?” I asked my twenty year old son, Sam. He’s freshly back from working the summer in Alaska.

“Sure,” he said, heating and uncapping my homemade concoction. I smiled widely, secretly thrilled to be using up the last of my summer popsicles. For some reason, I hadn’t felt drawn to eating them myself. Sam popped the sicle in his mouth, then pulled it out quick.

“Mom, this is vegetables. This is straight up vegetables.” My eyes widened and I laughed. I had not meant to pull one over on him. I’d just forgotten why I’d been avoiding those popsicles. “There’s a little fruit in there,” he said diplomatically. “Grapefruit? But this is one of your smoothies, Mom. A frozen smoothie.” Not be ungrateful, “I’m sure it’s good for me.”

What had I been thinking, putting “good for me” in a popsicle? This culinary sin is on par with beet brownies and zucchini chocolate cake … but worse. Because there was just no hiding the rooty, spicy vegetables, not even from me. Cloaking the best intentions in false indulgence. I am laughing at myself hard now. Next year, I’m lining up summer fun with popsicles that are all fruit, I tell ‘ya. All fruit.

When did you do something you thought was wholesome in the form of indulgence and later regretted it?