Ketchup. Smiley Face. Happy Face.

As I came into married life, we began a tradition of listening to NPR on Saturdays. Some great shows from 9 in the morning, clear through the evening jazz program. Only a little bit of guilt for having attended a different school that also broadcasts NPR programming.

A big part of the day starts at 3 p.m. It's when the frog-like baritoned voice of Garrison Kellior comes over the airwaves. It's comforting. Reflective, and pretty damn funny.

One of the 'sponsors' of the show is ketchup. With its natural mellowing agents, it's able to settle any stressful situations.

Growing up, I used to laugh at stories of my step-brother being obsessed with ketchup.

Cheerios. Eggs. macaroni and cheese.

Apparently, nothing was immune to the red, sweet goodness of Hunt's, Heinz, or brand X. He liked it so much that his little boy belly was called his 'tomato'.

My son, at 4 1/2 if just about no different. If there's an opportunity to eat ketchup will probably come into the picture.

He's taken his two-year-old sister under his wing, so they team up at each meal.

I tought that it would be a simple deal to serve it on the side on on the top of the food. You know, just drizzle it on top like a Jackson Pollock painting.

Oh how wrong I've been.

My little experts of youthful gastronomy like to eat things with faces (no vegetarians here, sorry). It's handy.

The other night I was readying my ketchup-pen, prepared to create a face on top of macaroni and cheese. Dot. Dot. Smile. Like this: :)

Simple smiley.

No.

He stated in his sophisticated 4.5 year old voice, "Dada, Actually, I'd like a happy face."

I had to show my ignorance, "Happy face? That's what is there."

"No, that's a smiley face. A happy face has a nose."

"Oh."