All grown up, what’s 9 x 12 again?

My little sister and I are approaching our second anniversary. I ask her,
“Can you believe it’s been two years?”
“Feels like at least four.”
Well I have baked more in the last two years then I have in the rest of my life combined. I ask her,
“What would you like to do to celebrate our anniversary?”
“Eat at your restaurant. Dinner!”
“Sounds great!” I usually just eat everyone else’s scraps, but it is a celebration, I should order my own food. 
We’ve only ever gone out to eat for lunch. I tell my ten-year-old little sister,
“I feel all grown up.”
“You are.”
We order my favorite sliders. I ask for an extra ketchup. Whatever the food is it’s secondary to the condiments. I love mayo so much it was a Hanukkah present. The server brings over more ketchup and says to my little sister,
“People always order extra ketchup, but then they don’t finish it.”
Ok, so one time I overestimated how much ketchup I needed. The server continues to tell my little sister,
“So if Jess doesn’t finish this, you’re going to have to feed it to her with a spoon.”
My little sister seems to think this is reasonable. 
We’re nearing the end of the sliders and fries. There is a decent amount of ketchup left. My little sister gives me a stern look,
“You need to eat that ketchup.”
Our server returns. She asks my little sister about school and she mentions her teacher who plays the guitar and sings the times tables with them. The server says,
“I was always bad at my times tables, I think the sixes are the only ones I know.”
My little sister sighs and says,
“You must know the tens too.”
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