S’mores!

After Cute Husband finished grilling tonight’s steak dinner, I asked if we could roast marshmallows with The Boy and make s’mores. I think he’s had them before at his old school, but I know he’s never roasted marshmallows and made his own. And, well, every child should know how to make s’mores.

Cute Husband indulged me, and I skewered marshmallows for him and The Boy to roast over the still-hot coals in the little grill.

Roasting marshmallows, suburban style.

Once the marshmallows were sufficiently gooey (and I was particularly proud that The Boy did not set fire to his marshmallow), it was time for him to learn proper s’mores assembly.

Daddy demonstrating proper assembly techniques.

We went back into the house to eat the s’mores. (I didn’t have one, but Cute Husband and The Boy both did.)

It's not easy to eat s'mores and stay clean.

And after he finished his dessert and went to the bathroom to wash his hands and face, The Boy announced, “I look like a brown and white monster!”

Look at that messy face!

I think it’s safe to say he enjoyed his s’mores.

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