I may be stoned for saying this, but … I don’t really like s’mores. Even camping. They don’t taste nearly good enough for the mess.
This isn’t new. Even as a kid I wasn’t big on them. I do, however, enjoy roasting marshmallows – especially if someone else will eat them after I start them on fire.
Sunday night we used the grill for dinner and I decided to let the boys make s’mores. I can’t let my prejudices stand in the way of what they might consider tasty.
Billy kept holding his marshmallow way high because “I don’t want it to turn black!!”
Rusty immediately scraped his marshmallow all over the grill and then lost it down in the burners.
Ricky kept talking with his hands – including the one holding the hot dog stick. He was reminded that the stick was sharp and he needed to stop it!
Billy and Ricky weren’t ready to be finished when I called it quits. They are s’mores fans. Rusty took a bite and then set it on the table. He was done. We gave Tommy one … then we had to give him another. He’s a fan now, too. I guess we’ll have to do it again.