Earlier today a discussion about the 80s Volkswagon Vanogon (story for another blog entry) that my parents owned when I was younger spawed another fond memory of mine--the first time my dad tried to make s'mores.

My mother had given him strict instructions for our picnic dessert as we left the house, "Eat the graham cracker square, the chocolate, and the marshmallow together after it's toasted on the grill. They're fun to make and so good."

Simple, no?

No.

My dad valiantly tried to balance the graham cracker sqares on the grill, but they kept falling in, or blackening under the extreme heat. The chocolate and marshmallow didn't even have time to get warm before grahams were inedible. I tried one, but my mother had obviously lied about her fond s'more memories.

When we returned home, disappointed, my dad explained that he tried, but the graham crackers wouldn't cooperate. My mom stared at him before beginning to shake, until that shake turned into tears and whooping laughter.

I think this must have become a sore spot, as I don't remember having s'mores again until I was a Girl Scout counselor at age 17--10 years later.

Posted by: Ensie at 08:20 PM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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