We crunch together in silence for a while.
"What flavor do you like the best?" she asks me, pulling a green one across the table with her finger.
And I am stuck: do I tell her that there aren't flavors, or is this one of those things where you are supposed to play along with the child, to let her imagination rule? If I say: "They're just different colors, not different flavors", what damage will I do to her lime-cherry-grape world?
Instead, I take another handful, where they get lost in my thick fist, and shove them all into my mouth at once. Through the crunch of shell and chocolate, I manage, "I like them just like this."
And she nods, satisfied, reaching for a red.

