A Peachy Problem

Dear diced peaches company…
While I realize diced in no way means minced, neither does it mean CHUNKS. Diced is what I do to onions for spaghetti – unless my baby brother might be eating it and then I go with a mince.
The term DICED leads one to believe a fourteen month old with one molar might be able to swallow – I mean eat – them and have her digestive system think she actually chewed them a little.
So I have a suggestion. Your company president should try to eat half a cup of cherry tomatoes (because that’s about how big each piece of peach was), pretending he has eight front teeth and a molar, then let me know how swallowing them whole works out for him.
Maybe after you’ve done that, I can explain to you what diced means. Until then, I guess I will continue to cut the chunks into a dice which, chasing the pieces around on a plate with a fork, kind of reminds me of people trying to catch a greased pig.
The person who will just buy sliced peaches until the kid has a few more teeth because while they might be just as big a pain to dice myself, they’re cheaper than the chunks in individual cups that I have to dice anyway
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