My big almost five year old really really wanted me to make something for his preschool class Valentine's Day party. I offered up cookies, but was shot down. I offered up chocolate coated marshmallows on sticks- he loved these when he was younger. We made marshmallows coated in orange chocolate with jack 'o lantern faces for Halloween. We dipped them in pastel chocolate and rolled them in sprinkles to make them look like Easter eggs. Personally I found them disgusting- so much sugar on sugar we may as well have just eaten straight out of the sugar bowl. But he loved them. Now he has outgrown them.
So I offered up chocolate dipped pretzels. Too crunchy. What? How is crunchy a bad thing? I thought I was taking these to the preschool, not the retirement community. Fresh fruit? It will get mushy. Mushy? This child consumes his body weight in fresh fruit every day. Plain candy? Mommy, you always make something! You can't just buy it!
After a lengthy discussion I will spare you from here he finally coughed up the small fact that he loves S'mores. I have never seen this child eat a S'more. I didn't know he even knew what a S'more was. But he did, and that is what he wanted to bring to his friends at school. So this is what we made for his friends:
Basically it is a make your own S'more kit, containing a marshmallow peep hart, mini chocolate bar, and graham crackers. I chose not to offer instructions as I figured that pretty much anyone who has lived on this planet for any length of time knows how to make a smore. Right? Well then my big almost five year old asked me to make him one. And I stood in my kitchen, totally clueless, while he stood there, clutching a chocolate bar and a large heart shaped marshmallow in his sweet little hands. I actually panicked a little. How the hell do I make a S'more without a fire? Fortunately I came to my senses before I ran out into the backyard with a starter log and a lighter. I gave my son a plate and watched as he assembled his treat. I then put the plate in the microwave, hit "on", and watched through the streaked glass window as the pink heart shaped marshmallow expanded, pushing the top graham cracker up higher and higher, until it exploded with a bang. I jumped and ducked, as though somehow the marshmallow gook was going to shoot out through the glass door directly into my face. If you haven't had the opportunity to clean marshmallow out of your microwave then you are missing out on a great upper arm workout. Three tries later we got it right and I proudly presented my son with his Valentine treat. He took one bite and said, "I can't eat this. It is too sticky and I don't like the marshmallow. Can I just have the chocolate and graham crackers?" Really?
My husband took the S'more treat bags to school with the boys this morning. I never did include instructions. I fear that every mother in that class is going to HATE me by the end of the night. My name is going to be muttered in kitchens across Grove City as these poor unsuspecting woman give up precious time with their husbands on Valentine's Day to clean marshmallow out of their microwaves.
Next year I'll just send a bag of conversation hearts to school and be done with it.