A confession
My wife is a romantic when it comes to summertime traditions. She grew up in Wisconsin where summers are a little more pleasant than the sticky, wet, dishwasher that is Omaha. I mention these two things as the only way to explain her regular investment in the ingredients for 'smores. Once spring ends, I can find graham crackers, marshmallows, and chocolate bars in the cupboard.
Here's the thing. I can't think of the last time we actually ate 'smores. It's often too hot, the kids are hardly ever here, and somehow we forget that the ingredients are even there.
Or worse.
Sometimes, Laura goes looking for those graham crackers, marshmallows, and chocolate bars and one of the three items are missing. Or two of the three. Or all three.
Well, I have a confession.
It wasn't me.
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