Thursday, May 17, 2012

Hot Diggity

Remember when I told you that David was installing a patio door?  I am pleased to report that the door is in and the house is still standing.  I am also pleased to report that having direct access to our backyard has literally transformed our lives.  Like we eat outside every night.  Even when it's raining, which makes it only slightly awkward trying to juggle a steak knife and an umbrella.

Fortunately, this week brought with it some warmer temperatures and the summer tradition that I hold near and dear to my heart.  Hot dogs.  On the grill.

Unfortunately, David also has a little summer tradition that he can't live without. Beans. Barbecued. From a can. I associate beans with major childhood trauma.  Like when your mom makes you sit at the table until you try at least one bite of everything.  And you watch your sister crying across from you because eating a piece of corn is actually going to kill her.  Yeah, that's how I feel about beans.

But I digress.  The weather was beautiful, the dogs were charred, and it was time to get our picnic on.  So we fixed our plates (well, one of us supervised) -

And jumped right into our first official summer meal --

But then, as David asked me to pass him the disgusting baked beans, Morgan perked right up and asked for some.  Because I am a good mom, I chose not to tell her how horrifying and slimy they were. I swallowed hard and put a few on her plate.  Then she said, "Mom, you need to have some, too" as she piled them next to my coleslaw.  

In her little words of wisdom, she looked at me with those big brown eyes, prodding, "Okay, now you need to try one bite."  At this point, I could feel the sweat beginning to form as panic set it.  I put two beans on my fork and literally choked them back.  And then, because I am such a good mom, I gave the rest to Morgan.  And they didn't even make her cry.

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