#2 - Hiding Easter eggs inside the house is a sure way to find all the nooks and crannies of the house that have not been cleaned in the last year . . . or two.
#3 - This may be the last year for this particular child to hunt for his Easter basket. He's 12. I know how the eagerness pales with each progressive march into the teen years. ::sniff:: As you grow up, things change! But for this year, he was still eager!
(No, Youngest Son, you do not need to look through the clean
laundry sitting on the living room couch to find your Easter eggs!)
#4 - I am very happy that I still have a little one that gets positively ecstatic about Easter. There is definitely joy to be had in having babies after 40!!
(Wait . . . a tattoo on this child's arm? At Easter? How did that clear morning inspection?)
#5 - Apparently the brilliant engineer who designs Christmas lights so that the wiring disintegrates as the lights are stored in the attic over the summer and subsequently brings millions of Americans to tears of frustration approximately one month before Christmas has now been assigned to designing Easter eggs.
Easter eggs with a little plastic hinge that joins top and bottom. Easter eggs that cannot be snapped closed except by holding down one's left thumbnail against the egg's bottom lip, squeezing the egg top together while inserting into the egg bottom at a 45 degree angle, bumping the rounded egg bottom with one's right knee, and pressing at exactly 11 pounds of pressure both upward and downward on egg top and bottom with the heels of both hands.
Youngest daughter and I worked hard to fill the eggs for the baskets and the hunt. The teens of the house may have acted like they weren't interested in Easter goodies, but they all waited like famished lions pacing outside a wildebeest lair as we worked on filling, sequestered inside the large master bathroom.
We had about 10 kinds of candy, split into even piles of 5 (1 pile per kid) and we filled the appropriate color of each uncooperative egg for each child.
As we filled, we thought mean thoughts about the Easter egg engineer and muttered mild epitaphs at him/her under our breath.
Or at least I did.
Of course, buying 220 made-in-China eggs for $10 at Wal-Mart the night before Easter may have also been part of the problem. Sometimes you just get what you pay for.