A few months ago, T was all into the idea of camping and s'mores. I blame Max and Ruby. Since I am not fond of heat, bugs, snakes, lack of bathrooms, small kids around fire, and about a million other things associated with camping, it's quite unlikely that I will be the one to take him and it's definite that I will not be the one to take him during an Illinois summer. R was Airborne, so he gets that honor. Good luck, buddy!
But I have bravely stepped up to the plate and tackled the s'mores side. I know, my selflessness is astounding. For our first few attempts at s'mores, T kept freaking out. Freaking out that the graham crackers broke, freaking out about the chocolate needing to be melted and therefore both warm and soft, freaking out that the marshmallows also needed to be heated. In general, no matter which way we tried it, making s'mores with T was a disaster. The funny thing is that he will eat graham crackers, chocolate, and marshmallows separately, and he'll eat two of the three together, but not all three.
So tonight, the kids went to the Y for Parents Night Out. Guess what they were doing tonight? Yep. S'mores. Fabulous. I expected to pick up the kids and hear a very interesting story about T, s'mores, and freaking out. This didn't happen to my great surprise. And on the way home, T talked non stop about s'mores and how good they are and how much fun they had making them and couldn't he have more when we got home? Uh, no.
But against my better judgement, I agreed that we would make some tomorrow. What I can't wait to see is if he's actually over his previous issues and he actually eats them, broken graham crackers, softened chocolate, melty marshmallows and all. And also how much of it ends up all over the kitchen versus in the kids' tummys.
Maybe we should record a video of it. Would that be mean?
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