While visiting my dad last week, my sister had this conversation with him.
He is in his favorite chair all leaned back after having the sugar low from hell, weak as water, with an oxygen tank hose all over the chair - but feeling a little better.
Sis: How about a nice orange, Daddy? I see a nice one in the fruit basket.
Daddy: Yeah. I believe I could eat an orange.
Sis: Great! Let me get one for you.
Daddy: I think I will eat me an orange! (with super-hero strength words, he said)
Sis: Give me just a minute. I'll peel it for you.
He raised up in the chair and said,
"I'll peel it."
Sis: But I don't mind peeling it for you.
Daddy: That's awful kind of you, Sis but....
Sis: I don't mind, Daddy.
He looked at her with that because-I-said-so look and nearly shouted,
"Bring me a knife. The day I can't peel my own orange will be the day I die!!"
He ate every morsel.
Take that, diabetes.
image: public domain
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