Sprinkles

At dinner the other night we were enjoying warm chicken souvlaki wrapped in flatbread.  Good stuff.

Jakey tells me, “I want sprinkles, Mama.  Sprinkles.”

I look across the kitchen table… I’m not seeing any sprinkles.

“This?”

“Yesth.”

“Olive tapenade with feta cheese?”

“Sprinkle it, please.  Sprinkling.”  Imagine little fingers pantomiming sprinkling over a plastic plate.

I love that Jake is lukewarm about hamburgers, can rarely be talked into potatoes and gives white rice a skeptical once over.  But bitter black and green olive tapenade with salty cheese?  Rainbow colored dinner confetti.