The Battle of Man and Tomato

Tomato: 1 John: 0

(That’s my father.)

We went to dinner tonight and he ordered a salad and he couldn’t get the cherry tomato with his fork.

One single cherry tomato remained.

And I was making fun of him, because he kept trying to pick it up and it was just rolling away.

“Just stab it,” I said.

He insisted that he could make it happen with his chosen utensil. “It’ll just slide away,” he said. I laughed at him.

“Just use your spoon,” I said. “Scoop it.”

“I can’t say I’ve ever run across a tomato I can’t eat with a fork.”  I wrote it down on the paper place mat, because I was already writing this blog in my head.

My Dad is so stubborn and it makes for wonderful blog fodder.

He is a very methodical man– he rarely varies his approach. He figures if it persists long enough, eventually it’ll work– and most of the time it does. He follows the rules and does everything the right way. And it’s worked for him in business and finances.

But he was no match for that errant tomato, slippery in viniagrette.

And I highly enjoyed pointing out the futility of his method.

He even picked up his knife and nudged the tomato onto the fork, and raised it to his mouth.

ALMOST made it– and then the tomato jumped ship.

Plop! Right in his lap.

I laughed shamelessly.

He picked it up and ate it– the old-fashioned way.

“Shoulda used a spoon,” I chided. And he started laughing too and acknowledged his defeat.

But that’s how much of a gentleman he is– and that’s what makes him an amazing father.

And hilarious.

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