It doesn’t seem so long ago when I’d run home from school and beg mom to cut me a pink grapefruit the size of a softball.
Mom was a surgeon with a paring knife. She was able to cut each section just so making it simple for me to spoon out. It would be years before I’d be trusted to do the same.
Because all bets were off when I was hungry and mom wasn’t around.
Anytime I cut bread or vegetables I’d pull out the huge knife that came free with a 3 room carpet install. It looked like one of those knives you see on late night infomercials. You know, the ones shown cutting through tin cans, tires and tennis shoes?
It had a slippery plastic handle that increased the chance of injury and excitement. Its menacing blade was ideal for cutting through meat or bone or small trees. It’s a miracle I avoided even one trip to the emergency room from using this beast.
I thought about this time I spent with my mother as I cut a grapefruit for each of the kids tonight. I’m not as skilled as my mom was but the kids are forgiving.
As long as I sprinkle the right about of sugar on top.
The kids love everything about the grapefruit. They love how it makes the kitchen smell. They love how each section perfectly fills the spoon. And they love to squeeze the excess juice into a bowl to drink later.
In this culture of take-out and microwavable dinners there’s something satisfying about slicing a good old fashioned grapefruit.