Wanna eat a snowball?

When roasting marshmallows for smores the other night, Bridger got a marshmallow and said, "Wanna eat a snowball?" and "First, ya haf-tu get a snowball..." He liked roasting them (torching them), but only ate the white uncooked ones.

Yum! Yum! Hurry! How much can I stuff in my mouth before someone else gets it?

We had cousins visiting: 1 Bridger's age and twins just a year younger. Lots of little boys!

While having our little roast, we noticed a brand new calf that had been born on the other side of the fence, right by us.
Their different face markings are always interesting to me. This newest one looked like an arrowhead-bulls-eye. It seems to have the "wildest" looking face so far, which is interesting because his mama is named "Pyscho Cow." (The one that's the most scared and runs around the most. Maybe because she was branded at her past owner's place? I'd be scared too if that happened to me!)

These other new calves (only a week old) were curious and came up to me too. Cute little things.

Later that night, after baths to clean off the smokey smell, I'm tucking Bridger in bed and think to myself, "Boy, that shampoo made him smell good. Smells like the cookies from the smores. Or maybe it's the clean sheets?" The next morning, when it wasn't dark in the room, I found this:

No wonder it smelled good in there! Funny kid! Thanks to some good friends that introduced us to the great idea of using these cookies for smores! It certainly simplifies things, and seems to work better than traditional graham crackers and chocolate bars.