by Lisa

I have never brought a bottle of soda into the house. Occasionally when my father or father-in-law are visiting, they buy their own diet soda, but I can safely say that nothing with corn syrup has ever been brought into my house by me or my husband.

This is not to say the kids haven’t had their share of Shirley Temples at restaurants, and if you’ve read even a little of this blog you know that they have kidtinis with some frequency.(Try the new search engine on the blog site! You can have your pick of recipes!). The point is,  we don’t have a ban here on sugary drinks, but we do choose to drink them selectively and to make them less sweet than say, a can of coke.

However.    As I was paying for my wine at BevMo a week ago, I saw a big stack of Coca-Cola. From Mexico. Made with real sugar.  In thick glass bottles.   Caroline’s husband is, I think, partial to this elixir for himself. But we don’t see it all that often here, and if you know me, you know I bought a dozen bottles.

When I showed the kids the treasure I had found, they had no idea what it was.  “What’s coke?” Finn asked. “What’s it taste like?” Ella wanted to know.   “It’s delicious,” I told them, and I let them split a bottle for lunch, over ice.

We made appropriate ceremony, and then they tasted.

Finn loved it.

Ella really didn’t care for it, and now, while Finn will chant “Coca-Cola! Coca-Cola!” while watching football (we each had a bottle during the Superbowl), Ella leaves her bottle untouched.  There are worse things, of course, but for the rest of us, not much better than a good, real Coke once or twice a year.