Tuesday, September 27, 2011

Happy Candle Day

Dinner time! Earlier in the day, Kenna found a teeny little candle in the candle basket in the garage. I said she could have it. Amazing how kids, even when they don't know the term "candlelight dinner", or even really what that is...they invent it "for the first time". Brooks says, why don't we turn out all the lights Kenna? Yah! It's a happy candle day! Thankfully the garage light was on (for a very dim backlight), because, we essentially ate in the pitch black
The little candle, lighting our dinner. The match is there beside it. That is how small it is!
This was one of those nights where I was glad that Brian was working late and not home yet...it was incredibly hard to see...anything. Like when we were kids, and attempted the candlelight thing...my Dad always turned the lights on (ruining the fun), because he "couldn't see his food". Well, you know how they say you marry people like your Dad? Brian wouldn't have enjoyed the lack of visible scenery as much as the kids did, I'm sure of it:-)
He likes to sit at the table with us now, on a stool. He gets a little offended at the high chair.

I can't see my food. From this light it looks like dog food, actually. It's really good, promise!
This is what happens when the sensibility of Daddy is gone. Things deteriorate quickly. The little flame, along with all the mosquitoes flying around the house, got me thinking of campfires. Do you know how to roast marshmallows? You've never had one? I can fix that! Little candle, little marshmallows, toasted in a variety of ways, from light brown, to burned black (my fave). It was really easy too. I didn't need to trouble myself with straightening out a clothes hanger.
Brooks, the only child who shares my love of the fire engulfed 'mallow, told me I was "the best ever". Yes, I told him, I might just be :-)

Please don't tell me that we've somehow ingested carcinogens with our haphazard cooking method. I did consider the possibility that it might not be the "same kind of fire", as a real campfire. (As even by that very statement I have likely proved, I know NOTHING about fire). But I figured off-setting that with using a clean fork, instead of a branch from a tree that has possibly been peed on...we'd live. So far so good.

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