Everyone was tired after a weekend of BBQs. On Monday, it seemed that there might not be a Third Street Cafe BBQ at all. But the kids were clamoring for it.

Chants of s’mores, s’mores, s’mores could be heard up and down Third Street. Truth is, the children could care less about the food — it’s all about the fire and the s’mores.

In the late afternoon, the adults of the building began to stir from their afternoon naps — their futile attempts at relaxation. Smartmom shopped for burgers, franks, ice. Phyzz bought middle-eastern pastries, Mrs. Kravitz bought chicken, sausages, franks.

The Weber was prepped at 5 p.m. There was momentum. Even a plumbing mishap in the basement, which necessitated attention from Mr. Kravitz and Hepcat couldn’t stop the momentum.

Using a plastic jasmine rice container as a shaker, Mrs. Cleavage prepared Cosmos with vodka, Triple Sec, lime juice, a dash of cranberry juice that were strong, mind altering, just the thing…

Burgers, chicken, sausage, franks, even lamb. It was a classic BBQ at the Cafe with a make-shift table of boards balanced on the recycling cans. Covered by a tablecloth, it made a perfect surface for all the salads, condiments, hummas, dips, chips, and fruit.

Nothing fancy. Function and fun. That’s the motto at the Third Street Cafe. And s’mores.

What is it about s’mores? The children never tire of them. The activity of it, that is. Standing over the flames with their sticks — so primal, so basic. The chocolate and roasted marshmallow on graham cracker sandwich wrapped in tin foil and heated on the fire.

S’mores. They could have done it all night. But they didn’t. Races and obstacle courses were the next order of business into the warm summer night while the parents put everything away.

Parking spaces filled up. Memorial Day vacationers returned from their sojourns. The block returned to normal in anticipation of Tuesday — this week’s back-to-normal day.