I'm pretty darn excited about camping this weekend. I volunteered to bring the smore ingredients. Dad said he was bringing marshmallows so I didn't have to worry about that part, and I had to confirm that he was sure he was bringing enough (?), because I fully intend on eating smores all weekend. At which point he started bragging about the HUGE marshmallows he found that are the size of your fist. To which I tried to explain that these are not smore marshmallows, and you'd be lucky to roast those marshmallows without them falling off your roasting utensil, (be it stick, poker, prong, bbq fork, or spatula!). To which he told me smores are too messy to worry about and that he had a whole plan mapped out about toasting the outside of these behemoth marshmallows, pulling off the outer toasted shell, and re-toasting each layer until he made it to the middle. I mean, I can't argue with the roasting plan. But the smores not being worth the mess I put up a pretty strong pahaw(!) to. I mean, they are always worth the mess.

Crazy Dad. I think he's going a little insane.

Needless to say, I'm bringing my own marshmallows.

1 Comment

1. M on 7:52 PM, July 29, 2010

   We tried those marshmallows last week. First off, stay away from the pink ones. Second, no one would eat the smore made with that bad boy.