Cubes or Wedges: A Watermelon-Based Identity Crisis

It all started with a mini watermelon.

At the grocery store, my kids locked eyes on it with true appreciation for the man-made marvel that it is. Of course, we brought it home. And then, as is tradition, we did absolutely nothing with it for several days.

But eventually, after the third or fourth, "When are we cutting it?" I broke out the big knife, grabbed the cutting board, and called the kids in for what apparently counts as high entertainment in our house: fruit prep.

They pulled up their stools like it was a cooking show. And I asked a simple question: “Cubes or slices?”

Now, my kids are opposites in almost every way. One shouted, “Cubes!” The other hollered, “Slices!” And just like that, a civil war broke out in my kitchen over watermelon geometry.

So, I did what any peacekeeping parent would do. I halved the watermelon, thinking I’d do half and half.

But here's where it gets good: After slicing the first half into those classic triangle wedges, I looked at my wedge-preferring kid and said, "Okay, your slices are ready!" Then I turned to my cube kid and asked, "Do you still want cubes or do you want slices too?"

And boom—conversion. She chose slices. Total flip-flop.

Now I’m not saying I Jedi mind-tricked her, but I am saying that people are more likely to agree with the second thing you say. Pretty sure that’s science. Or psychology. Or something.

Turns out, there is some research to back me up, proving people are more likely to agree with the last thing they hear—a little phenomenon called the recency effect. Which means I might be a parenting genius…or just accidentally persuasive.

Either way, the whole watermelon ended up sliced. And my kids had juice dribbling down their happy little chins for the next 10 minutes.

The next day, post-workout and pre-lunch with my brother, I reached into the fridge and saw those beautiful wedges. Grabbed one and walked around eating it while getting ready—like a responsible adult who snacks with flair. And it hit me:

If that watermelon were in cubes, I wouldn’t be eating it.

I would’ve gone for something in a wrapper. A granola bar. A meat stick. Anything you can walk with one-handed. But the wedge? It’s perfect. Portable. Playful. Shaped like a smile when you’re done with it. Iconic.

So naturally, I started forming a whole TED Talk in my brain about why wedges > cubes—until I met up with my brother.

He said he’d go cubes. Every time. No question. Slices slow him down, and the rind is “a barrier to enjoyment.”I argued that the rind is like the crust of pizza. He responded, “If they made pizza in cubes, I’d eat that too.”

There was a pause. Then we locked eyes.

“…Pizza Rolls,” we said.

And just like that, our childhoods flashed before our eyes, covered in grease and lava-hot cheese.

Here’s the thing: tiny preferences tell big stories.

Whether you’re team wedge or team cube says something about how you like to experience life—efficiently or playfully, clean or messy, bite-sized or bold.

Some people like systems. Some like spontaneity. Some like to get a little juice on their cheeks and call it a win.

What’s beautiful is that there’s room for all of us—whether you eat your pizza rolled up, your watermelon on a stick, or your feelings with a spoon.

So next time you’re making a choice that feels oddly personal (glass or mug, pulp or no pulp, sock-shoes or sandals), just know:

It’s not about the watermelon. It’s about how you bite into the world.

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