Some more s’mores, please (or camping, the final installment).
Oh yes. Milk chocolate, marshmallows, and graham crackers. There’s just nothing like a s’more while you’re camping. And our boy here has a love for them that rivals my own. As Ewan slept sweetly and soundly just a few feet away, protected from the random raindrop and most mosquitoes, these two started toasting marshmallows to that golden brown perfection.
I love the smell of toasting marshmallows. I don’t particularly care for marshmallows any other way or at any other time other than s’mores time.
My job is to unwrap the milk chocolate bars and break apart graham crackers, making sure that everything is ready for the assembly and the big squish. This precursor job is a very important job. Because without the right assembly, the big squish can’t happen, and if the big squish doesn’t happen, the milk chocolate won’t melt the right way.
Wouldn’t you know it, that little Ewan completely missed out. Just as we had licked our fingers clean and washed up the toasting sticks, he woke up.
And Holden, Ewan, and I went for a little magical walk, just around that twilight time, to see if Holden could reach the moon.
He nearly caught it.
But since night was falling and the moon was rising, we had to scamper away and follow the trail back to our big, new, swanky 6-person tent. We brushed our teeth, had the last potty call, put on our pj’s and crawled on top of ThermaRests and under down blankets and sleeping bags.
Ewan hadn’t slept in the middle of a pile of people since he was about nine months old. He spent a lot of time tugging and patting. And pulling and poking. And tooting and giggling, hiding and reappearing, rolling and flailing, standing and sitting.
Until about 1:30 in the morning.
And then he started again at about 4:30 in the morning.
Holden snored through it all, Hank wrestled with and talked softly to Ewan, and I dodged and cuddled and finally resigned to scooting over and sleeping on the kids’ ThermaRest, which is made for a four-foot-tall person. Finally, I captured that Ewan and trapped him in my sleeping bag and to our surprise, he fell fast asleep for almost three more hours.
The next morning, we emerged famished and sleepy-eyed to a cloudy, rainy sky. I love how the rain sounds as it trips through the trees, and how the sun can poke through even in the rain.
Those boys gobbled up their breakfast and we set off down the canyon towards home, once again.
We traveled a more scenic route home through a pretty rural area, coming across this sign. Someone please explain this to me. It both alarms and stumps me.
Random, I know, but seriously people. How does this happen?
I’m gonna need some more s’mores.