In 2021, my son Leo decided that the only acceptable food groups were ‘beige’ and ‘crusty.’ For three weeks, the only thing that passed his lips that wasn’t a carbohydrate was a single, solitary pea that he ate on a dare. I panicked. I did what every sleep-deprived parent does: I went to the local pharmacy and spent $85 on three different bottles of ‘premium’ vitamins. I felt like a hero until I realized he was just sucking the sugar coating off them and spitting the actual vitamin under the radiator. I found a literal pile of them six months later during a deep clean. It smelled like fermented cherries and failure.
That was my wake-up call. Most of the stuff we’re told is the ‘best vitamin supplements for kids’ is actually just clever marketing aimed at parental guilt. We’re terrified our kids are going to get scurvy because they won’t eat broccoli, so we buy these neon-colored bears and hope for the best. But I’ve spent the last two years obsessing over this—reading labels, tracking Leo’s bloodwork (his Vitamin D went from a measly 12 ng/mL to a solid 34 ng/mL after we actually found a brand that worked), and wasting a lot of money so you don’t have to.
The sugar-coated lie in your pantry
Let’s just be honest: gummy vitamins are candy. They just are. If you look at the back of a bottle of Vitafusion Kids or Olly, the first two ingredients are usually glucose syrup and cane sugar. You’re giving your kid a dessert and calling it healthcare. I used to think—actually, let me put it differently. I used to convince myself that the 4 grams of sugar didn’t matter because of the B12. I was completely wrong. That’s like saying a chocolate bar is healthy because it has milk in it.
I tracked the sugar intake for a month. If you give a kid two gummies a day, that’s about 1.4 kilograms of extra sugar a year. Just from vitamins. It’s insane. Plus, gummies are missing the stuff kids actually need, like iron, because iron tastes like a rusty nail and you can’t mask that with enough corn syrup to make it a gummy. Most gummy brands are a total scam for anyone whose kid actually has a deficiency.
Gummy vitamins are the nutritional equivalent of a participation trophy. They make you feel better, but they aren’t actually winning the game.
Anyway, I’m not saying you’re a bad parent if you use them. Sometimes it’s the only way to get anything into them without a physical altercation. But don’t pretend they’re a health miracle. They’re a bribe.
The part where I get unfairly annoyed at packaging
I refuse to buy SmartyPants vitamins anymore. I know, I know—everyone loves them. They’re ‘clean’ and ‘third-party tested’ and whatever. But the lid on their large bottles is designed by someone who clearly hates parents. It’s one of those child-proof caps that is also parent-proof. When it’s 7:00 AM, I’ve had four hours of sleep, and I’m trying to get a toddler out the door, I shouldn’t have to use a pipe wrench to get to the multivitamins. I threw a half-full bottle in the trash last Tuesday out of pure spite. I don’t care how good the folate is; if I can’t open it, it’s useless.
It’s a petty reason to hate a brand. I’m aware. But parenting is 90% managing small frustrations, and SmartyPants is a frustration I don’t need.
What I actually buy now (The expensive stuff)
After the radiator incident, I switched to Hiya. They aren’t gummies; they’re chewables. They don’t have the sugar, and they use monk fruit or something instead. They’re expensive—like $30 a month—which feels like a lot for a tiny bottle of pills. But they actually have a decent profile of micronutrients. I also like MaryRuth’s Liquid Multivitamin. It looks like orange juice and tastes… okay. Not great, but okay.
I might be wrong about this, but I think the subscription model for vitamins is actually a good thing. I used to forget to buy them, then Leo would go two weeks without anything, and then I’d buy a cheap bottle of Flintstones that he’d refuse to touch. The Hiya refills just show up in the mail. It removes the ‘mental load’ or whatever the influencers are calling it these days. It just works.
One thing to watch out for: Ritual. They make these clear beads-in-oil vitamins. They look beautiful. They look like something a minimalist architect would give their child. But my kid gagged on them immediately. The texture is weird. It’s like swallowing a tiny, oily boba pearl. Great branding, questionable execution for actual children.
The risky take: Most of your kids don’t need this
Here is the thing that would get me kicked out of any ‘natural parenting’ Facebook group: if your kid eats even a semi-decent diet, you are probably just peeing your money away. I think a lot of us buy these supplements because we’re bored or because we want to feel like we’re ‘optimizing’ our children. It’s a hobby for middle-class parents. We can’t control the school system or the housing market, but by god, we can control the exact dosage of Zinc our six-year-old gets.
I’ve tested 14 different brands over the last 18 months. I’ve read the COAs (Certificates of Analysis) for heavy metals. I’ve tracked the price per serving down to the cent (Hiya is $1.00/day, Flintstones is like $0.12/day). And you know what? Leo’s energy levels are the same regardless of which one he takes. The only real difference is my anxiety level.
If they eat eggs, some meat, and the occasional piece of fruit, they’re probably fine. We’ve turned basic nutrition into a high-stakes gear-testing exercise. It’s exhausting.
The verdict
If you absolutely must buy something, here is my very un-professional, very biased ranking:
- Best overall: Hiya. No sugar, good ingredients, annoying price.
- Best for picky eaters: MaryRuth’s Liquid. Hide it in a smoothie.
- Best budget: Nature Made Kids First. It’s fine. Don’t overthink it.
- Avoid: Anything that looks like a gummy bear covered in sugar crystals.
Trying to get a toddler to eat a non-gummy vitamin is like negotiating a peace treaty with a terrorist who only wants to watch Bluey. It’s a struggle. Is it worth it? I don’t know. I still worry every time he refuses a carrot, even though I know he’s got enough Vitamin A in his system to see in the dark.
I guess I just wonder if I’m teaching him that health comes from a bottle instead of a plate. That’s the question that keeps me up, not whether his multivitamin has methylated folate or not.
Buy the Hiya ones if you have the cash. Otherwise, just give them an extra orange and call it a day.