Mores S'mores

Day 239

It’s 100 degrees and I’m afraid for the chocolate. 

The boys and I are at Swaim Park helping the Cub Scouts assemble 1776 s’mores to pass out at tomorrow’s Fourth of July parade.  It’s a smooth operation.  Except for the sticky marshmallow fluff, but that’s another story. 

“1776?  Really?” I ask my husband.  He grins and shrugs. 

“Very patriotic.”

“Everyone start with washing your hands,” instructs the dad in charge.  “Once your hands are clean, don’t touch your face or eyes.”  Or nose, I mouth to A.  “Got it?” 

The boys nod that they understand before spreading out to fill six picnic tables.

Leaders assign parents to crack and snap crackers and chocolate.  Boys spread “a little in the middle” of white, gooey marshmallow to the center of a graham cracker.  Other boys add the chocolate and others add a cracker top. 

Other parents sandwich the assembly line and bag and label each finished s’more.

   

“Assembly lines are only as strong as their slowest moving part,” a dad tells me.  “I learned that in business school.”   

“Are we the slowest part?” I laugh as the kids call and clamor for more crackers and chocolate. 

“Yeah,” he grins.  “I think we are.”