Adi sat at the island, jotting about her reading- part of her nightly homework. I quickly chopped an onion to scatter over the sheet pan meal I was hurrying to get in the oven. “Are you going to cry?” Adi asked, pencil pausing to watch me chop.
“I hope not,” I replied.
“Why does it make you sad?” Adi asked, a pensive look overtaking her face.
I stopped chopping to look at her. Did she think chopping onions made me sad? Kate DiCamillo’s words “they taste like melancholy” came to mind.
I went on to explain that chemical compounds are released from onions when you cut them. They make everyone tear up.
“I always thought it made you think of something sad,” Adi replied.
I wish there was of a story to go along with my onion tears. Although, I think I’ll now think of this moment with Adi every time I chop an onion.
Where There Is Joy 
Great opportunity for you and Adi to write a story about onion tears. 🙂 Wendy
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I love how much literacy is happening in this moment – your daughter jotting about reading – you thinking of a line from a favorite novel to match your mood. So much happens in a moment. Your short slice proves this!
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What a sweet moment between the two of you. Plus, the connection you felt, inside, to that DiCamillo quote is wonderful.
BTW: My mom only chops onions wearing ski goggles, yet she doesn’t ski. She bought them for the sole purpose of onion chopping!
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Oh my goodness! I can picture this and I’m laughing!
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I’m going to be thinking of Adi’s question now too when chopping onions.
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This is wonderful. A simple vegetable. A simple conversation between mom and daughter. An uplifting story of the power of emotions. Thank you!
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