When last night at 5pm I didn't know what we were going to have for dinner, I pulled out my biggest silver mixing bowl and tossed in some ingredients. A few of my children walked by and wanted to know what I was cooking. I honestly didn't know, because I was improvising with the 7 ounces of steak from yesterday's dinner. I told them I was making "Happiness". In retrospect, that does sound a little arrogant, but who can argue with a dish called "Happiness"? Jane was pleased to help stir "Happiness" and her joy increased as I handed her eggs to crack, milk to pour, and cream cheeses to soften. "Happiness" was becoming a frittata, but I was reluctant to tell my children. With cheddar cheese, croutons, salsa, black-eyed peas, pepperoni, and chopped steak, "Happiness" was getting more eccentric and nearly ruined in my children's eyes. I poured it in two glass pie pans and slid it into the oven. Who knew you could bake happiness without sugar? Alex, wanting to eat soon, asked when "Happiness" would be done, I philosophically told him when sadness was all gone. Somehow that wasn't quite true, when I pulled out the perfectly browned frittata 30 minutes later there was still immense sadness in the world. However, a slice of happiness was served for dinner and changing its name helped it to be received with more thankfulness. After a long day any mom could appreciate their kids saying, "Thanks for the Happiness." Go on and market dinner. If your kids are anything like mine, they are opinionated consumers and a product's name makes a big difference.
7 hours ago