One night last week the kids asked to have a campfire and toast marshmallows. I said it was fine with me if my husband wanted to do it and they cleaned up after themselves. The event itself was brief, taking all of about thirty minutes, and when the kids bounded into the house grinning sticky smiles later, I felt very spontaneous and in the spirit of summer. I hoped at that moment to fill all our summer days and nights with as many such experiences as possible.
But that was before I discovered the melted and burned marshmallow stuck to some child's shorts and twisted up in a clean load of laundry...and before I found a charcoal mural drawn on my driveway the next day...and before I found sooty handprints on every wall leading to the bathrooms...and then blackened marshmallow rubbed into the carpet in the livingroom...and now I find the same in a bedroom... and as I'm sitting on the floor with my bottle of Goo Gone and a brush I'm just hoping all this childhood summer fun doesn't always turn out to be so much work for this grown up.