So I heaped some on my plate and stabbed my fork into what I assumed was a piece of watermelon.
But . . . ew . . . I don't think that's watermelon.
What is that?
Maybe grapefruit? I don't eat grapefruit very often, so maybe that is why it is not immediately recognizable.
Or . . . GROSS! Is this MEAT? Did my family make some kind of raw meat ceviche?! I don't even know what that word means, but they say it a lot on Top Chef in reference to food that looks like this!
"Guys? What is this?"
"That? The fruit salad?"
"No, this," I say as I indicate the floppy object dangling from my fork tines.
"I don't think this watermelon is okay anymore. I would definitely advise not eating it. Or, actually, yeah, you should all take a bite of this!"
Turns out that, helpful guy that he is, Chris cut up the watermelon. Even gave a bowl FULL of the meat watermelon to the boys. Clearly he did not taste it first, right? WRONG. He TOTALLY tasted it first.
But . . . how, Chris?
Anyway, fast forward to Tuesday night. The children are eating dinner, including some cantaloupe that Chris has cut up.
"Hahaha," Sam giggles, "Mom! My melon is sparkly!"
"Chris? Did you taste the melon?"
Why did I even ask that?
Seriously. Why did I even bother? He gave the children MEAT WATERMELON.
So I grab a piece of Owen's melon and it is, indeed, sparkly. Or fermented. Whatever.
To be fair, the boys thought it was fine. And they seem okay so far.
Chris. He has discriminating tastes. That's how he ended up with me.