Every evening, a wonderful ritual unfolds around the lake. Graham crackers and chocolate come out. Marshmallow roasting apparatuses of all makes and lengths materialize. Adults become kids again.
I didn't go to summer camp when I was younger, and maybe this is why I'm so charmed by this activity: It's what I imagined was happening at camp. Roasting marshmallows around a fire, you can't help but drop your big city guard and make quick friends with everyone around you.
Of course, the kids are the real focus here—or that's what we tell ourselves, anyway. As it happens, neither of my kids was into the roasting thing. They preferred instead to eat marshmallows directly out of the bag.
Coming up tomorrow: We head down to the lake.