Happy S’mores Day

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

August 10 is Happy S’more Day, the sweet treat prepared over a fire. A camping tradition of ending the day with conversation and eating s’mores.

The recipe is simple, get a two gram crackers, put a piece or pieces of chocolate on one side, roast your marshmallow and sandwich between the gram crackers. Then eat the sweet sticky sandwich you created.

Conversation always turns to how to roast the marshmallows. There are those who place the marshmallow in the flames, let it burn, creating a black burnt sugar crust. Then there are the patience roasters, taking time to turn and slowly cook the marshmallow to a golden brown. And lastly there are the impatient ones who put the marshmallow over the fire and remove it saying the marshmallow is done.

When I was a child, on camping trips with my family, we would have marshmallow roasting competitions. The goal was to see who could get the largest roasted marshmallow. There are several tricks to creating a roasted marshmallow four to five times the original size.

The marshmallow must be roasted slowly and evenly. The stick can not be too thin or too fat. Then there is learning when to roast it and to remove it from the heat to cool, then putting the marshmallow over the heat again. To obtain the largest roasted marshmallow, the golden crust can not form too early, but needs to form to help hold the marshmallow on the stick. A fine art of timing to create the largest marshmallow.

Regardless on how you roast the marshmallow for eating or making s’mores, the goal is family time, and having fun.



The Rocking Chair

Photo by Mateusz Dach on Pexels.com

While pregnant with my second child, I wanted a rocking chair to rock my baby. I searched yard sales to find one. I could not afford to purchase a rocking chair new. Finally I my searching was rewarded with locating a bentwood rocking chair with maroon covered back and seat. There were scratches on the woodwork, and the covering was not plush as when new. But it was sturdy, able to perform the purpose it was created for. And I could afford the price. I took my treasure home.

I placed the rocking chair in the main part of the living room, center of all the family activity. I rocked my baby even before we met each others eyes. In the rocking chair I rocked my second child, third and fourth.

The rocking chair became the place where I read books to the small children while nursing the fourth child. The rocking chair would support the weight of all five of us, as children hang on mom and the chair when I was reading. Them saying, “I need to see the pictures.”

As the children grew, we could not all be supported by the rocking chair. But mom and a child could. The rocking chair was moved to the quiet part of the main living room. There each day, mom and child, would have a quiet time of being held and loved.

Years move on and the child and mom time becomes the catch up on the day time. After school, each child took a turn telling mom about their day. The new kid at school, how they got a perfect score on a test, or sometimes the test score was not so good. We would rock and talk.

Children grow and become teenagers. The talks in the rocking chair became less often. The conversations shifted to friendships that struggled or a heart felt interest, and dreams of after graduation.

Time does not sit still like the rocking chair does in a corner collecting dust. The children have become young adults with jobs and first loves. Not much time to sit with mom and talk about their day.

I do not know what happened with the rocking chair after the children left home. I know it was a little wobbly and covered with scratches. The padded seat had been recovered once with a patterned material.

I did not think the children thought much about the rocking chair and time spent with mom until I received a phone call one day from my second son. He and his wife made a decision to get divorced and he was hurting inside. “Mom I wish I could just sit on your lap in the chair the way we used to when things were not going well. I wish I was with you in the rocking chair.”

Sometimes it is the plain and small things that make such a difference in the lives of children.