Miss Sassy Peppers

Waiting for cold coffee at the counter of the local Subway, I was jolted out of my private musings by a sassy little miss. She was dancing around in circles, trying to order herself a sub.
The little one could not have been a day over seven. But, she spoke with the authority of a 30 year old.

Veggies on toasted whole wheat, if you please!

Beside her, stood a rather hesitant woman. I was intrigued, by the contrast their demeanours presented.
Her nanny, I guessed.
Or, maybe her mother.

As the sandwich 'artist' busied himself toasting & slicing her wheat loaf, the little miss stopped pirouetting and, raised her petite self on to her toes. Gluing her goggle eyed, pouty lipped face against the glass-case, she fixed an unblinking stare on the artist, as he delved into a tub of shredded lettuce.

" Not so much."

Her imperiousness stayed his hand for a moment. Snapped the lady to attention. And, brought a hint of a smile to my lips.

The white-green bed of lettuce made, the artist held aloft a thick slab of cheese, mutely looking to the pig-tailed diva for approval. And, he was not disappointed.
She beamed, a wide toothy grin of approval.

With a flourish, he, then, flicked the lids off tubs of cut vegetables.
The little one flexed her knees, and, stretched for greater height.
She solemnly gazed at the vivid spectrum of colours before her.

A moment later, her decisions made, she lisped out her choices in a sing-song voice,

" Little onion, gherkins, lots of olives, 3 tomato rings, 1 cucumber..."
"...Only 1 CUCUMBER...."
The melody in her voice had given way to notes of steel. And then, a rhythmic chanting
"...More Olives...More Olives...."

I watched in fascination as the artist's brown hands flew about, in silence, piling pale purple onion rings & soggy green gherkins over the pale lettuce bed, followed by a shower of purple-black olive bits. Three perfect red tomato rings came next and finally, the solitary cucumber slice in the center.
Finicky as I am, even I, have never been so fastidious about my sandwiches.

He gestured to the green peppers, and the jalapenos.
But, before the little Missy could reply, her timid escort found her voice.
" Is that Khara*?"
" Of course, it is..They are peppers" pronounced our little diva "I don't want..."

" Take away?" queried the artist, finding his voice for the first time, as he wrapped the foil around the master-piece.
The little girl nodded in affirmation. With a happy smile, she reached out for her meal and, skipped away into the sunshine, with her guardian in tow.

As I settled with my coffee, at a seat by the window, I found myself staring at the pair on the pavement outside.
Such self-assurance in one so young.
Such singularity of focus.

As my eyes followed the figure traipsing down the street, I found myself wondering what she would be like a few decades later.
Sassy as the peppers, I hope!




*Khara = Spicy