Limones

Sometimes, little kids have some very odd beliefs about the world around them. Some of it is the adults' fault: we tell them stories about storks delivering babies and boogeymen who visit children in the night. Some of it is the result of very sound logic being applied in very incorrect ways. My favorite example of this comes via NPR's "This American Life," where one little girl came to the conclusion that her best friend's dad was the tooth fairy (seriously, listen to the episode if you get a chance). Either way, the point stands: little kids can believe some very strange things.

I was, of course, no exception to this rule. For all that I liked science and understanding how the world around me worked, I had some very notable gaps in my knowledge. A lot of that was around food. I never questioned what was served to me (for a very good reason), so I just ended up glossing over what I ate. I knew there were various ingredients that went into the food, but I couldn't exactly identify all of them.

In fact, I distinctly remember when this came to a head one day in my teens: one of my classmates asked me what I'd had for dinner the night before. I sort of remember what I said, but, most of all, I remember the sense of uncertainty with which I responded. It was like someone with bad eyesight trying to describe a painting: the best I could do was describe the broad strokes. Ultimately, my response was something like, "uh, chicken? ... and vegetables." The exact meal wasn't all that important, but it might as well have been a roast and sautéed spinach for all that I could identify the ingredients.

Somehow, all of that led me to believe that limes ripened into lemons. Looking back on it, it wasn't THAT ridiculous a notion. There are plenty of fruits that start out some shade of green and turn a different color when they ripen. Since I didn't really bother to figure out what I was eating anyway, I just knew that I was eating citrus of some sort.

There may also be a language component to this, as different Spanish speakers use different words for the same fruit (here's a short piece explaining it). In some cases, a lime simply doesn't exist in the country, so it's a weird notion to try to differentiate between lemons and limes. I'd love to blame my Spanish roots for this, but I grew up speaking enough English where I'm not sure I have that excuse. Still, it is somewhat fascinating and reassuring to me that I wasn't the only one.

The Mild Wife knows all of this, so there's usually some good-natured ribbing about lemons and limes. If we're cooking something and the recipe calls for a lime, it's not uncommon for some giggling to result. In fact, when I was putting together our grocery list the other day, I wrote this:

Note that I specified the color. I couldn't resist poking fun at myself

Well, when I actually got to the grocery store, I was presented with this:

Sort of looks like all of those are "lemons," doesn't it?

I don't know how long I laughed, but it took me a second to regain my composure. Also, there may or may not have been a text message that involved this picture followed with the implication that the grocery store agreed with my childhood interpretation of lemons and limes.