This year as "Easter Eve" rolled around I kept the egg dyeing all to myself. I had seen a lovely idea on Southern Living's web site, and I wanted the egg dyeing process to be all mine.
Thankfully, none of the children minded.
The blue eggs were just dyed with food coloring, and the tan eggs were dyed in a strong tea mixture. The eggs were then splattered with dark brown acrylic paint by dipping an old toothbrush in the paint and running my thumb across the bristles.
Then with the finished eggs nestled down in a little Spanish moss "nest" and a name tag tucked in, they were perfect "place cards."
I did not hard boil the eggs. I do not like egg salad. I do not like hard boiled eggs. I left them raw.
Now this did present a challenge, in that there was a little bit of question as to what to do with one's raw-placecard-egg once the meal had begun.
Oldest Son took this in hand. He stood up to announce to the table-ful that the eggs were not hard-boiled and that everyone should be careful. He picked up the two corners of the napkin on which his "nest" was laying to demonstrate how the raw egg could be lifted in its sling and placed to the side.
I was in the kitchen when I heard the crack, the splat and the resulting gasp from the table as the egg slipped neatly from its sling onto the wood floor and oriental rug. Ah, yes, everyone should be careful . . . very, very careful.
On a brighter note, the day also included an Easter egg hunt. Here, Youngest Son contemplates a clue leading to a surprise.
And it's always fun to see all the grandkids together clustered around My Mom and My Dad. I just love 'em all!!
Sweet, sweet Easter Day.