A has seen several shows recently about camping out, including one with marshmallows roasted over a fire. She's been clamoring to camp out in the backyard so she could participate in said marshmallows. J pitched his tent in the backyard before it got too cold and they played card games until the mosquitos started dealing themselves in. But she wasn't really keen on the idea of sleeping out there. I wasn't either; never been one for sleeping out of doors. I have a lovely Stearns & Foster king-size pillow top that welcomes me to slumber each night. Why would I forsake that kind of hospitality?
At any rate, we certainly wouldn't be making a fire in our backyard. So, we did the next best thing:
I'm happy to report that indoor s'mores are quite yummy. C agrees; she nearly took off my finger tip trying to clean off the sticky marshmallow.
Huge compromise for my manly man. Perhaps one day God will answer his prayers and I'll wake up believing that days on end without proper plumbing is actually relaxing. The title of that post shall read, "The prayers of a righteous man availeth much."
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