Liberty watched as I cut the cantaloupe in half. I handed her a spoon, she scooped out the seeds, then handed it back to me and watched me cut off the rind and slice the fruit.
“Why is there always a hole in the middle of the melon?” she asked.
I stared at her. My dear ten year old daughter, capable of so much more than I ever was at her age, having just scooped out the seeds out of the hole in question, was really asking me this? All of the sudden, the light dawned. She clapped her hands over her face and said, “I can be so DUMB sometimes!”
And in that moment, I couldn’t help but think that the beginning of knowledge is the realization of the lack thereof. When you realize you don’t know all there is to know, you have something to work with. When we can admit we’re wrong, or that we don’t have a clue, or that we just said something really dumb, we can only go up from there. Learn from mistakes, move on, and be better for it.
Then we both laughed. Because sometimes, ridiculousness is pretty funny. And darn it, those holes those grocery store people that put holes in the middle of the cantaloupes rob us of a whole lot of fruit that could be there.