The Grill Is "On"

This evening I oversee the Guy Fawkes BBQ. I bring home 800 frozen beef burgers, 500 hot dogs and the equivalents in buns. Eitan re the BBQ: "are you going to be the only one?"
FYI this is the poster I drummed up for the bbq, where I managed to sucker seven volunteers to flip burgers and sausages which, by the way, contain "53% pork fat." Otherwise, the Sheen Mount fireworks celebrating the quartering of Guy Fawkes are impressive and culminate with a bon fire spectacular that lights up the sky. Madeleine is, frankly, terrified and Sonnet takes her into the school for comfort. In all, we, the PTA, sell over 1,400 tickets making the evening one of our top yearly fundraisers.

Eitan, last night, being ordered to bed: "Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday. It's all so boring."

Madeleine this morning on scoring a goal during football: "My coach was really happy, but he did not give me any gold."

Me, discovering the kitchen dishes in the backyard filled with mud: "what kind of a mess is this!?" 
Madeleine, matter-of-fact: "It's not a mess, dad - it's a mud stew."