When we first moved to Maryland, everything felt new and unfamiliar. But there was one thing that came with us and brought me comfort—my mud kitchen. It had always been one of my favorite things to play with, and now, in a brand-new place, it became my special space. Since we hadn’t fully settled in yet and I didn’t have a proper place to play, the mud kitchen was all I had. And I loved it.
After a few days of playing with it, I had an idea. I wanted my mud kitchen to feel more real, like a little restaurant. So I made a menu and gave it a name: The Happy Bakery. It felt perfect. I started pretending to serve treats and meals to imaginary customers. But then something even better happened—my dad joined in and played The Happy Bakery with me. He would place orders, compliment my “cooking,” and help bring the whole game to life.
As time passed, I kept adding more to the experience. One day, not long before Easter, my parents surprised me with an early Easter present. Inside the package were real play kitchen items—spoons, forks, knives, plates, and cups! I was so excited that I started playing with them right away. Now, my Happy Bakery felt more real than ever. I had everything I needed to serve up delicious mud pies and leaf soup.
The fun didn’t stop there. Eventually, my dad built me a playground in our backyard. He had some extra wood left over from building it, and I saw another opportunity. I took the extra pieces and used them to make chairs for the bakery. Now my customers had a place to sit while they waited for their meals! It was amazing to see how my little kitchen was turning into a full play world.
As I got older, I didn’t play with my mud kitchen as much, but it always held a special place in my heart. I never forgot how The Happy Bakery began or how much fun I had creating it. Even though I didn’t need to play there every day anymore, the memories stayed with me. It was a place filled with imagination, laughter, and love.
Now, whenever I think back to those days, I smile. I know that if I ever get a real chance to open a bakery, I will name it The Happy Bakery. That name means something to me—it reminds me of my childhood, my family, and the joy of creating something from nothing.
And even now, every once in a while, my dad will stop by The Happy Bakery. Maybe it’s just for a pretend coffee or a slice of imaginary pie, but in those moments, we both remember the magic that started in our own backyard.