Sam is eating rasperries. I can’t remember if he’s ever had them before – maybe in some fruit purees I make for him, but not just by themselves. I cut the little berries in half and put them on his plastic plate in front of him. He grabs a piece without hesitation and puts it in his mouth.
A moment of hesitation: do I like this? Do I hate it? A little piece of the berry is still hanging out of his mouth, red juice dripping down his chin. Then his mouth puckers up, his forehead wrinkles. He bursts into laughter — a real belly laugh.
I take a berry and taste it – my cheeks tingle as soon as it touches my tongue. The tartness hits just after I crush the plump flesh agains my teeth. I pucker too and Sam laughs even harder.
He picks up another berry, giggling already, anticipating the juicy, biting surprise.