David doesn’t want a bite of my cookie because it’s a sugar cookie with rainbow sprinkles and “sprinkles are stupid”.
In more extreme moments of rejecting desserts with rainbow sprinkles, he has offered to me rationales such like sprinkles are “pointless” and “from the devil”.
It’s funny because he is mildly serious when he says these things. He really won’t eat a bite of the perfectly balanced buttered cookie with that delicate sprinkle crunch.
“Crunch?” He interrogates my description, “Walnuts give you crunch, not *ssprheenkles*.”
He annunciates “sprinkles” with an emphasis on the H that isn’t in it to begin with and a draw at the end that makes it sound like he is swallowing the word.
“In my opinion…” he continues, “a proper cookie…”
And I smile. “In my opinion”.
Praise the Lord, he knows that everything out of his mouth about proper cookies is in his opinion.
“You’re entitled to yours” he offers, generously.
I laugh. I know. And as I accept that he, like Ellen, really doesn’t like sprinkles. I know he respects the fact that I find complete joy in them.
The beauty that neither of us is right except right by ourselves, is a treasure. I have had friendships where this was not the case: “In my opinion” was a Fox News fact… cause for endless debate.
He is ordering a poké bowl now from a go to dinner spot. I had a banana walnut ice cream cone for dinner (omg it was good…) and I had a half of this cookie…
…see, don’t you want a bite?