Today I babysat for Jen, an absolutely wonderful gal from my old ward. Her kids are sweet and a breeze to babysit. They’re extremely easy to manage; my time there consists of playing outside a beautiful, expensive house in their pristine, manicured backyard and playing with the kids. Easy.

While I was there I opened the fridge for a bite or two and discovered some grapes. The box read “Four Star Fruits”. This intrigued me to no end. Naturally, 5 stars is the ideal star allowance that one would crave from produce. A 5 rating is supreme, the best, the absolute and almighty. 4 is good, satisfying, and certainly better than 3 stars but is simply not superlative. How odd to bestow one’s own product with a mere 4 stars.

I opened the box and tasted one.

Lo and behold, it was a four star grape. I was delighted with the sweet, refreshing taste, but elation did not flood my mouth and entire being. It was good, but not the best. Indeed, it was a four star grape.

Never before has a food product, be it produce or otherwise, been so honest with me. I was flattered. Hallowed be the name of this courageous farmer/corporation, let us shower him/her with laud for having the balls to deliver what is promised. I was so happy to know the quality of the fruit with exactness, to the very star.

Blessed, blessed farmer…