We’re not big Easter Bunny fans around here. In fact, our boys know there is no Easter Bunny and that the grownups are the ones who hide the eggs and fill the baskets. But we still color eggs and all that (It is the one time of year when Matthew is actually allowed to touch eggs. For the other 364.9 days of the year, they are strictly off limits.). This year we gathered at my parents’ house on Friday to color eggs with most of my nieces and nephews. On Saturday we reconvened for the annual hunting of the eggs. The kids younger than twelve get to hunt, the youngest getting a few minutes head start, then the middle aged ones getting a couple of minutes and the oldest ones are let loose last. Now that Matthew knows his letters and can recognize his name, he hunts eggs by finding the ones that have his name or initial written on them. He thought this was “super easy” and had a good time.
Nathan was in serious search mode and found plenty of treats.
After awhile, Kev asked, “Where’s Daniel?” And we all realized that whoever was in charge of letting the kids out had forgotten to let the biggest kids out. As a result, Daniel only ended up with six eggs, but luckily for him our teenage egg hiders are tall (With only one exception, all of my nieces and nephews over the age of ten are taller than I am.) and as one of the tallest ones hunting eggs, Daniel was able to snag a few that the younger children just couldn’t get to.
And although Daniel got seriously shortchanged, we made up for it by filling his basket with an entire bag of jelly beans and a whole package of peeps on Sunday morning. And then the boys got their happy on by consuming exorbitant amounts of sugar.
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