The Lonely Grapefruit

Here it is:  the evidence that life without Brishen home just isn't quite right.  This is his half of the grapefruit.  They have a ritual.  The grapefruit is cut in half.  She takes one half (obviously the big half when he's gone), and he takes the other half.  They sprinkle them with sugar, eat them with grapefruit spoons--an invention I never knew existed until we were gifted them--and then the contest begins.  They each grab a clear glass.  They each squeeze every possible drop of juice out of their grapefruit half and into their glass.  Heads are tilted, eyes squint in concentration, measurements are taken, and moms are sometimes called in for official judging.  The one with the most grapefruit juice in a glass is declared the "Winner of the World Grapefruit Juice Competition"* for that entire snack time. 

Today things weren't quite so much fun.  Basia ate her half.  She squeezed some juice into a bowl and drank it with a spoon.  The other half of the grapefruit sat silently on the counter for a couple hours until Basia decided that the sight was too depressing and ate it, too.  Come on home, Brishen, even our grapefruit is lonely without you!

*OK, so I made up the winning title.  My kids are weird, just not that weird.