Izzy couldn't keep the smile away at the revelation her father made aloud, knowing just who he meant by 'her.' "I know," she replied happily, and grateful for it, at that. Having a mother who understood and shared in the distaste gave her an excuse to never have to eat the stuff. "I like tomato sauce, though. Like spaghetti and pizza?"
Her head tilted to the side, genuinely confused. "Do they make any other kinds of pepperjack?" she asked curiously. "'Cause that's the only kind I've ever had. The hot kind?" Her nose wrinkled. "Un-spicey pepperjack just sounds gross. What's the point?" That she was opinionated was a given, but she took the matter of food very seriously.
Izzy ordered a sandwich for herself, carefully stressing the request for no tomatoes (please and thank you), then lifted her glass, taking a dainty sip of lemonade as she considered her answer to his question.
"I like them all," she answered honestly, looking back up at him. "I guess my best is reading, but I've been reading since I was really little anyway. Social Studies is my favorite, though. Which I guess is kinda weird?" Shrugging, she leaned forward confidentially. "I don't tell the other kids in my class that, 'cause nobody else likes it." And after having skipped a grade, she didn't need to stand out anymore. Fitting in was already tricky business.