Picture this, Sicily 18….naw better yet, fast forward a couple hundred years. Daddy comes home to a happy Stella running around and through a makeshift tent of table cloth over dining room chairs. Chocolate icecream has strategically dried on her nose and cheeks so that when she looks up at you with sun hat half draped over her starry eyes and Four toothed grin, she really looks like a clown.
Fast forward a few minutes, we're in the kitchen, dinner. Stella sitting on her favourite spot on the counter, eyes some cherry tomatoes and grabs one. Nothing out of the ordinary, she loves tomatoes.
As we're preparing dinner I here a flop on the floor. I look over to see Stella's pants full of tomato seeds and right below her a carcass of what used to be a tomatoe sprawled out on the floor.
She giggles, grabs another tomato with both hands, looks me in the eye with a devilish grin of joy that only a true mercenary could appreciate and then proceeds to squeeze as hard as she can, shooting tomato guts all over the kitchen.
Stunned at the sight I can only laugh, which only encourages her as she grabs another tomato and goes through the same process.
All in all about 8 tomatoes lost their lives in this escapade!
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