I live in Queens. Which means my kitchen is… how do I put this nicely… intimate. If I stretch my arms out, I can touch the fridge, the sink, and my emotional limits all at once.
Did I immediately feel like a wizard? Yes.
Did I also feel a little guilty? Also yes.
Did I go back and forth on whether this counts as lying? We’ll get to that.
But here’s the thing: if you’re a parent, you already know the veg negotiation economy is brutal. Broccoli is suspicious. Carrots are “too crunchy.” Anything green is immediately accused of “trying to be healthy” (said with the same tone you’d use for a scam call).
The Day I Accidentally Became a Smoothie Fraudster
It wasn’t some Pinterest moment. No sunlight streaming through gauzy curtains. No mason jars. I was tired.
I had:
- One avocado that was aggressively ripe
- Cocoa powder
- Milk
- A blender that screams like it’s being haunted
And I thought, what if…
I made a chocolate avocado smoothie fully expecting rejection.
Instead?
“Can I have more chocolate shake?”
I just stood there. Holding the blender lid. Processing.
The Actual Recipe (Don’t Blink, It’s Simple)
I’m not gonna pretend this is some sacred formula. This is what I do. You can mess with it.
Ingredients:
- 1 ripe avocado (if it’s brown inside, don’t be a hero—throw it out)
- 1 tablespoon cocoa powder (unsweetened, unless chaos is your brand)
- 1 cup milk (dairy, almond, oat—whatever your fridge supports)
- 1–2 teaspoons honey or maple syrup (or none, if you’re feeling bold)
- A handful of ice
Blend until smooth. Like, really smooth. No chunks. No evidence.
That’s it.
When This Smoothie Saved My Sanity (No Exaggeration… Maybe)
There was a week—don’t remember which one, they all blur—where everything felt off. School emails. Work deadlines. That one group chat that won’t stop buzzing.
Dinner wasn’t happening. Everyone was cranky.
I made the chocolate avocado smoothie again. Poured it into whatever cups were clean (none of them matched). And for ten minutes? Silence. Peace. Slurping.
I leaned against the counter and thought, wow. So this is what winning feels like.
Variations I’ve Tried (And One I Regret)
Once you get comfortable, you start experimenting. Some good ideas. Some… learning experiences.
Good additions:
- Banana (makes it sweeter, thicker, more “milkshake”)
- Peanut butter (elite combo, trust me)
- A pinch of cinnamon (don’t ask why, just try it)
Bad idea I will not repeat:
- Protein powder with “natural greens flavor.”
No. Absolutely not. My kid took one sip and said, “This tastes like lies.”
Fair.
Why Kids Don’t Need to Know Everything
This might be controversial. But kids don’t need a full ingredient breakdown of every snack. Sometimes they just need food they’ll eat without turning it into a courtroom drama.
I’m not saying never tell them. I’m saying: pick your battles.
And if one of those battles is a chocolate avocado smoothie that keeps everyone alive until bedtime? That’s a hill I’ll stand on.
Smoothies Aren’t Just for Kids (Let’s Be Honest)
I started making this for myself too. Afternoon slump. Midnight craving. That weird moment where you want dessert but also want to pretend you made a good choice.
It works.
It’s rich. It’s filling. And it doesn’t leave you feeling like you just made enemies with your future self.
Sometimes I drink it standing up, scrolling my phone, thinking about how autocorrect changed “avocado” to “advocate” once and honestly? Same energy.
If You Want to Go Down the Rabbit Hole
If you’re curious about sneaky veggie stuff, I once fell into a blog spiral on Smitten Kitchen (personal favorite, very real energy). Also, if you need a laugh about parenting fails, McSweeney’s Internet Tendency has absolutely roasted me more than once.
Final Thoughts (Not a Conclusion, Relax)
I’m not claiming this smoothie will change your life. I’m saying it might change a morning. Or a mood. Or a mealtime standoff.
The chocolate avocado smoothie isn’t magic. It’s just… helpful. And sometimes that’s enough.
You ever feel like parenting is just a series of small wins stacked on top of each other, hoping they don’t topple before bedtime? Same.
If this is one of those wins for you—welcome to the club. We meet in the kitchen. Quietly. With blenders.