My dad swung by last week for dinner and brought over a bag of cherry tomatoes along with dinner and bags of fruit. I reminded him of this previous time he had bought me a bag of cherry tomatoes. When I was a kid (somewhere between 4 and 8), we came to Taiwan as a family. I remember I asked my dad repeatedly to buy me a bag of cherry tomatoes. He relented, and when I got home, I ate the whole bag of them in one sitting and promptly got a sore throat. The next day, my dad bought me another bag of cherry tomatoes because he saw that I liked them so much. I didn’t eat them, not one at all, because I had a sore throat, but I didn’t tell him why I didn’t eat them, because I didn’t want to sound stupid, ya know, getting sick from gorging myself on cherry tomatoes after having practically begged my dad to buy the same cherry tomatoes. He got mad, flabbergasted by a kid who’d one day beg for and devour cherry tomatoes, and the next want nothing to do with them. 20 years later, I explained to my dad my logic. See, what to him at the time must have seemed like the unintelligible behavior of a child actually made perfect sense. Dad seemed contrite.