In my memory, I see my husband with our three-year old daughter on his lap, each morning sharing a grapefruit. A grapefruit? Yes, our daughter doesn’t eat simple things like bananas (she hates the texture) or applesauce. Grapefruits? She loves them when they are particularly tart and juicy and when her dad is cutting into the grapefruit and doing the work, one bite for her and one for him. Occasionally my brilliant husband will say “one for me and two for YOU” trying to give her as much Vitamin C as possible and it always worked. When I think of grapefruits I think of my daughter, young and blonde, sharing a grapefruit with her dad. As she got older, I introduced her to grapefruit “smiles” and orange “smiles.” She really liked those too and then I would serve her plates of grapefruit and orange smiles and we would put them in our mouths together and pretend we were monkeys. It was fourteen years ago, when we made monkey sounds and danced around the kitchen with our big, yellow, grapefruit smiles. Life was good.