The sun was beginning to set, casting a golden glow across the little yard of their home. Dad had been busy the entire afternoon arranging a small tray of fresh fruits he had carefully picked from the garden. The smell of ripe guava, bananas, and slices of papaya filled the air, sweet and inviting.
“Bon! Sumi!” Dad called in his gentle yet firm voice, standing by the door with the tray balanced in his hands. “Come here quickly. It’s time to eat fruit!”
The two little ones were in the corner of the yard, completely lost in their world of play. Bon was building a miniature tower of wooden blocks he had found near the shed, while Sumi was crouched beside him, carefully decorating the tower with tiny flowers she had plucked earlier. They were so immersed in their game that they barely heard Dad’s call at first.
Dad smiled, watching them. He knew that calling them once was never enough. So, he raised his voice slightly and called again, “Bon! Sumi! Come now before the fruit gets warm. It’s sweet and fresh from the garden!”
Sumi’s ears perked up first. Her eyes sparkled as she looked at Bon. “Did you hear that? Dad has fruit! I bet he cut the papaya—my favorite!” she said, bouncing with excitement.
Bon tilted his head, still clutching a block in his hand. “Hmm, but I was just about to finish my tower. It’s the tallest one I’ve ever built,” he muttered.
Sumi giggled and tugged at his arm. “The tower can wait. Fruit won’t! Don’t you remember yesterday? The bananas were so soft and sweet.”
Bon’s curiosity got the better of him. He stood up slowly, brushing the dirt from his shorts. Together, the two of them ran toward Dad, who was waiting patiently on the porch.
“Here you are!” Dad said warmly, placing the tray on the small wooden table. “I thought I’d have to call you ten times.”
Bon scratched his head sheepishly. “I was busy building something important, Dad.”
Sumi, already eyeing the papaya slices, chimed in, “But I told him fruit is more important. Right, Dad?”
Dad laughed heartily. “Both are important in their own way. But food first, play later. A strong body makes a smart mind, and fruit gives you strength.”
The tray was colorful—yellow bananas peeled halfway, green guavas cut into quarters with a sprinkle of salt and chili, and bright orange papaya pieces that glistened in the fading light. The children’s mouths watered at the sight.
Sumi reached eagerly for a piece of papaya, but Dad gently stopped her hand. “Wait a moment,” he said with a playful smile. “We must thank the garden for giving us these fruits.”
Bon and Sumi clasped their hands together as Dad softly said, “Thank you for the food that keeps us healthy.” After the short blessing, he nodded. “Now you may eat.”
Sumi was the first to grab a juicy slice of papaya. She took a big bite, and her face lit up. “Mmm! It’s so sweet, Dad! Like honey!”
Bon picked up a guava quarter, sprinkled with just the right amount of salt and chili. He crunched into it, the tangy flavor making his eyes widen. “Wow! This one is even better than yesterday’s. Did you pick it today, Dad?”
“Yes,” Dad replied proudly. “I chose the ones that were just ripe enough. Not too hard, not too soft.”
The children ate happily, each savoring their favorite fruit. Dad watched them, his heart full. Moments like these—simple, quiet, filled with laughter—were what he cherished most.
As they ate, Sumi began humming a tune, swinging her legs beneath the chair. Bon, with his mouth full, pointed to the bananas. “Dad, can I have one too?”
“Of course,” Dad said, peeling a banana for him. “But remember, chew slowly. Don’t rush.”
Bon nodded, munching carefully this time.
Soon, their fingers were sticky with papaya juice, and the table was nearly empty. Dad passed them each a clean cloth. “Wipe your hands. We don’t want ants to join us,” he teased.
The children giggled, cleaning themselves up. Then Sumi leaned her head against Dad’s arm. “I like it when we eat fruit together. It feels… cozy.”
Bon added thoughtfully, “Yeah, and it makes playing later more fun because we’re not hungry.”
Dad’s eyes softened. “That’s exactly why I always call you. Food shared with family is more than just eating—it’s a moment of love.”
They sat quietly for a moment, listening to the crickets beginning to chirp outside. The evening breeze rustled the leaves, and the sky turned a deeper shade of orange.
Then, Bon jumped up suddenly, his energy restored. “Come on, Sumi! Let’s finish the tower. Maybe we can make it even taller than before.”
Sumi hesitated, looking at Dad. “Can we bring a piece of banana to the tower?” she asked innocently.
Dad chuckled and shook his head. “No, my dear. Fruits are for eating at the table. But you’ve had plenty. Now, go play while the evening is still young.”
The children raced back to the yard, laughing as they went. Dad leaned back in his chair, watching them with quiet contentment. He thought about how quickly they were growing, and how one day, these small traditions of eating fruit together might become their sweetest memories.
He whispered softly to himself, “As long as I can, I’ll keep calling them to eat fruit. Not just for their health, but for moments like these.”
From the yard, Sumi’s cheerful voice carried over, “Bon, don’t let it fall!”
Followed by Bon’s determined reply, “I won’t! This time it’ll be the strongest tower ever!”
Dad smiled, finishing the last piece of guava from the tray. The night was settling in, but in his heart, the warmth of family glowed brighter than the stars soon to appear.
And so, the simple call—“Bon, Sumi, come eat fruit”—became more than an invitation. It was a rhythm of love, a reminder that the smallest gestures often hold the greatest meaning.
