S’mores With A Side Of Creepy Stories

Last Saturday night, the Island Family decided to s’more it up. Since the area where we are staying right now is rather woodsy, it seemed like the right thing to do.

LCB tromped off into the surrounding vegetation to gather a compilation of “things that would burn.”

I tromped off to the kitchen to gather a compilation of “things that would turn into s’mores.”

We’re a rather primeval family, really.

Except for my eldest. Scared of what might happen if he was completely removed from technology, he tromped off to gather his PSP, just in case.

Okay, it’s time for a moment of truth here. 90 seconds before this picture, my son and daughter are going at it with each other, arguing and (I love this) making “mean” faces at each other. And then, all of a sudden they’re standing like this, like they’re on staff at Hallmark or something. Hmm, actually, it probably is giving them a foretaste of what marriage tends to be like. You should see the faces, fraught with meaning, that LCB and I can give each other. And don’t y’all who are married try to pretend you don’t do the same thing. Because if you don’t, well, that’s just highly disconcerting for the rest of us.

Once LCB got the fire going, the younger two started roasting their marshmallows. My son always has this internal drama going on when we do this, because part of him wants to draw out the roasting of the marshmallows as long as possible,

but another part of him wants that s’more in his mouth like yesterday. It’s great fun to watch.

My daughter, on the other hand, quickly gets mesmerized by the fire and will stand there, in a trance until you shake her out of it. The whole thing is a parental stand-at-attention experience.

My oldest likes his s’mores, as he describes them, without the marshmallows and sometimes without the graham crackers. Yup, you heard that correctly.

After the s’mores consumption concluded, we sat around the fire and told stories. The small people wanted to tell scary stories. I thought this wasn’t a good idea given that they were going to bed in a few minutes, but when I received looks fraught with meaning from the small people, I conceded. LCB, in what I feel was a decidedly unparental move, decided to oblige with a truly scary story, instead of concocting some story with a few half-seconds of scary stuff sandwiched in between large chunks of drama about unicorns and fairy dust. Half-a-minute into his truly scary story, their eyes went wide. For the life of me now, I can’t remember his story, but I sure remember the looks on all three of their faces. They, ladies and gentlemen, were hooked.

But, you could tell, they were also starting to get moderately scared. So when he finished, I tried to distract them by telling them a story about an affable young orphan named Erin who, over the course of 30 years or so, worked her way up from a life in Ohio as a factory worker who put buttons on purse handles to a life as a pilot with a cottage by the sea. Not recognizing the Faulkneresque epic storytelling greatness within their own family, they were only mildly interested.

So, not to be outdone by my decidedly left-brained husband, I told a brief scary story, complete with sound effects, which in this case were the scratching of my fingernails against the window. Scratch, scratch, tap, tap, scratch, scratch, scratch went my nails against the glass. Who knew I had a talent for making realistic creepy sounds? Not I, until Saturday night.

They were hooked again, but this time, a little more so. As we brought them up to bed a few minutes later, the three of them huddled together, and asked if they could all sleep in the same room that night. Then, they asked me to remove the window from the bedroom. Oh, and could LCB stand guard by the door all night, just in case?

Oops.

Sorry about that.

6 Comment

  1. My kids have been begging me to make a fire in the backyard so they can make smores. Are they crazy? Although, some chocolate and marshmallows sound pretty good right now.

    1. I don’t know what it is about it, but our kids love building a fire and making s’mores. It does get rather hot sometimes, but they sure have fun! ‘Course, isn’t life in Hawaii just one big luau anyway?:)

  2. Such a shame that your small people aren’t yet mature enough for the Faulkneresque yarns spun so eloquently by their mother. I must admit while reading this post, I was waiting for the part of the story where the kids, drunk on LCB’s tales of terror, insisted on sleeping in your room for the next few nights. 😉 Mine would have done just that. Heck, I’m not sure we’d ever get them out of our room after a night of scary stories. Although they are big fans of s’mores. Living in a wooded area, we are never short of things to burn in the chiminea.

    1. Well, truthfully, we pretty much have a spot in our room carved out for “those nights.” And while they didn’t stay in our room, they did become roommates for three nights, with extra lights on as well. Ah, well. Shame on me for that.

      If I lived by you, I think I’d make fires and s’mores every night. Seriously, we really all love it.

      BTW, a quick idea for getting them out of your room, if it ever comes to that, is to tell a scary story that takes place in your room. That should do it. I’m really just beyond terrible. Hey, at least my idea is just an idea, not one I’ve actually done!

      1. Of course! Something crazy that happened in my room! Perhaps that will get Son #3 to spend an entire night in his bed. His sleeping bag is seemingly a permanent fixture on our floor, this summer. 😉 Being that I am the scaredy cat in our family, I doubt that I would go through with it…but I can dream about doing so.

        1. Well, not to get too sappy or anything, but you could also focus on how someday you’re going to actually miss tripping over Son #3 on your way to the bathroom in the middle of the night. Now that my “baby” is well into four-hood, I’m starting to think about that more and more.

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