We Still Have Them

(This was triggered by thebratqueen's entry.)

When I was maybe seven and my sister was maybe three, we were each given cinnamon-sugar shakers shaped like little girls. Mine was orange; hers was green - unless I've gotten that backward. Horribly ugly things, and not very efficient shakers. But they represented to us a huge step in power, because we suddenly had our own special condiment TO BE USED BY NO OTHER and to be used WHENEVER WE SO DESIRED. If we wanted some on toast, we had some on toast. On waffles. On cerial. On broccoli or steak, if we wished.

You would think we would get tired of this. We did not get tired of this. When the shakers ran out of cinnamon-sugar, we had Mom make more.

Looking back, our rapture didn't make a lot of sense, considering that we'd always had full access to the spice cabinet and permission to do roughly as we liked with it. I had my own well-used cookbooks. My own apron. My own kitchen tools.

Perhaps it was the decadence.