My Easter Egg Hunt

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(or, Why did someone get here by searching for “Cooler than the Easter Bunny”?)

Anyway…the year that we lived with Gene’s mom, we had custody of The Boy on Easter Sunday. And at that time, The Boy was young enough to believe in the Easter Bunny, Santa Claus, Tooth Fairy, etc. And at that time, I wasn’t going to let a holiday go by without a Big Fat To-do. I remember going from store to store to buy all the greatest stuff for The Boy’s Easter basket. And I remember braving the yucky smell of vinegar to dye Easter eggs with him. (I only let him dye a half dozen, all of which he chose to dye several colors, so each egg kinda ended up the color of a mud puddle). And I remember hiding the six eggs around the house so he could hunt for them. I even hid one on his bedside table, theorizing that he would be So! Excited! that he would miss that one. (I was right). I even made a list of where I’d hidden the eggs, so there wouldn’t be that terrible smell a week later because of a forgotten egg (another good reason to only dye 6!).

And I remember how happy he was, and how happy that made me. Oh, The Boy, you are loved even now.

Happy Easter.

PS: I got a set of Pyrex glass casserole dishes from the Easter bunny this year, one of which I used to make Baked Ziti for dinner last night. Turned out pretty well. And leftover Baked Ziti is an appropriate Easter breakfast, right?


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