The S'more. The oozey, sticky, gooey sandwich of deliciousness. The one single staple of an enjoyable camping trip. A dessert of many variations, but is as much of American livelihood as the hotdog in the ball park. It's a must-have.
And my prim and proper princess child needs to change her attitude.
How dare that squishy marshmellow stick to her fingers and her cheeks? How dare that melted chocolate drip onto her plate or smear her perfect face? Because those graham crackers cannot contain what's sandwiched between them, the whole dessert is deemed inferior and not worth so much as a second glance.
While I'm aware that s'mores are messy, as I'm fairly certain is some fraction of the whole foundation of the dessert, I'm not inclined to allow this child to continue her development until she's had the opportunity to fully appreciate the magic that happens when one combines a chocolate bar, a marshmellow, and a graham cracker.
So, I cleaned it up a bit.
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