What? Is it not Easter anymore? hmmm . . . know what would be neat? If I finished blog posts closer to when I started them. *shrug* … oh well. I want to tell you one of my favorite Easter stories.
Every year my family dyes at least 3 dozen eggs. And every year, on Easter morning, we sit at the top of the steps waiting for everyone to be ready and tracing the easter bunny’s footprints with our eyes. (The easter bunny leaves white powdery footprints from wherever he enters the house. Sometimes it’s the mail slot, sometimes through the chimney, sometimes through a window, from the screened in porch, etc.)
When we’re all ready to go, the youngest child gets to go first. You see, it’s only fair. That way the youngest child has an opportunity to find a few of the easier eggs before the older kids start hunting. Once the youngest child has found a few eggs, the next child starts looking. And then me.
Easter eggs are hidden in the front hall, the dining room and the living room. Think that’s not a lot of nooks and crannies for 3 dozen eggs? So did Ryan.
Before we left for Italy, Ryan had his first Easter egg hunt at my parents house. Not wanting to have an unfair advantage over him, my sisters and I were generous enough to allow him to go first – the first ever modification of the youngest child rule.
Following is my impression of Ryan telling his side:
So, I walk down the steps, and I’m looking around – and I don’t see any eggs. None. And everyone is watching me. I’m lifting a pillow here and there, I’m looking behind things – but it’s a formal-style living room, and I didn’t *really* want to touch anything. Time’s ticking by … they’re all still staring at me … and now they’re laughing. I mean, I’m in Kate’s *parents* house! What am I going to do, dig through all their personal belongings trying to find eggs?
Fortunately the Easter Egg Hunt tradition is prepared for this sort of thing – so the girls give him a few ideas, and we *may have* resorted to ‘hot and cold’. After Ryan found an egg – we relieved him of his misery – and the rest of us all joined in. At first Ryan stood back and watched as we opened the back of the clock on the mantle “Got one!”, dug through the decorative books in the bookcase “Me too!”, lifted couch cushions, moved the bottles in the liquor cabinet, opened drawers, dug through mementos, removed flowers from vases and generally overturned the living room – but, you know, in an orderly fashion. Ryan’s main contribution to the task at hand was exclaiming after one of the girls found an egg “Hey! I looked there!” ;-)
But I can’t tell a story on Ryan without telling a little one on me … This year we did an Easter egg hunt with some friends and their kids in Villa Borghese – a big park near our house. The men hid the eggs & then stood guard lest the Italians steal them (no, seriously … ’cause some tried.) I didn’t feel up to the task of watching any kids … but not wanting to shirk all the duties I picked a job I thought I could handle. I was going to watch the cupcakes. Excellent. I can do that. So, I carried the cupcakes from our picnic area down to the easter egg hunt … and I held them. For a long time. A really long time. Did I mention it was a heavy glass dish? How much do 20 cupcakes weigh, anyway? Did you know that it takes a really long time for 4 year olds to figure out what they’re supposed to do in an Easter Egg hunt? Who thought it was a good idea to hide eggs so far away from the children? What do you mean you forgot where they are??
Needless to say, my arms got tired. Putting sweet cupcakes on the ground didn’t seem like a good idea. There are ants on the ground. Definitely not good. But I saw a little concrete column near the bushes – the cupcakes were safely ensconced in a glass dish with saran wrap. They should be fine on a concrete column.
A billion eggs later, we were ready to head back up to our picnic set up and enjoy some cupcakes and cookies. Only oooone teeeny tiny problem. Someone found the cupcakes. Someone went right through the saran wrap and took a chunk out of two of them. Could it have been a child? a bird? I picked up the cupcakes, and started to walk away … and that’s when we saw the (cat-sized) rat … looking for the rest of his snack.
I had *one* job. *sigh*
I miss these holidays at home.