I got some bad news on Thursday and was pretty mopey that night. Moonie tried telling me his favorite knock-knock jokes and even cuddled up into the crook of my arm, but sometimes even Moonie doesn’t chase away the blues.

Then his face brightened. “You know what we need?”
“What?” I asked.
“Sad cookies!” Moonie shouted.
“What are sad cookies?” I asked, picturing upside-down happy face cookies.
“Cookies that you bake when you’re sad! And then you eat ’em. And then you’re not sad anymore!”
Hey, it couldn’t hurt. Especially as he hopped to the measuring and mixing and preheating.

Soon, he was flipping the first batch onto a cooling rack to dry.

“I made them extra happy!” he shouted.

A dozen minutes later, he stood proudly over the second and final batch. “See? No more sads!” he shouted.

They sure looked yummy, all soft and warm and glittering under a sprinkling of raw sugar. I turned around to grab a plate to put them on and turned back to this.

“Uh, Moonie? Er, where did all the cookies go?”

He looked at me with a crumb-filled smile.

“Well, you’re not sad anymore, are you?”

I guess not – but I WAS a little hungry.