Husband and I just had a moment over a bowl of Jell-O chocolate pudding: We were spooning the velvety goodness into our craws, discussing the possible health merits of Jell-O pudding made with skim milk, when my dear husband took a particularly large spoonful and stopped dead in his tracks.
I thought it might be a sugar coma setting in. But before I could slap him out of it, I noticed the wheels of brilliance starting to spin in his head. That’s when he looked deep into the bowl of pudding and said,
“If we could just gather it somehow,” his hand grasping at the air, fist raised at the idea of it. “And then jam it into a buttery croissant…”
The air was electric with the sheer possibility of it. And for a moment I nodded, fully understanding his pudding croissant vision and believing in the power of this dream of dreams.
And then I laughed so hard that chocolate pudding nearly came out my nose.
Unlikely Diplomat 