Yes, I am an eight-year-old.
The first Easter that my little brother was capable of toddling around the yard, I learned that my life had changed forever. I was about 12. My mother always set up an Easter egg hunt in the yard for me and my older brother, and suddenly, instead of being allowed to dash about, scooping up as many eggs as possible, I had to let my little brother find some. I’d be diving for an egg, and my mother would suddenly appear to say, Let HIM have that one. Easter was never the same. Fortunately, when I met my husband, he immediately realized that this injustice from my childhood needed to be redressed. He’s arranged an egg hunt for me every year since we met. Unlike the egg hunts of my childhood, this one is indoors, so there’s no worry about weather. And my husband goes the plastic egg route, so there’s plenty of candy and no eggs rotting in the bookshelf. Every year that BFB and I have lived in the same place, she and her husband have taken part as well. (Turns out it’s more fun to hunt against someone else. Just not a two year old.) While Mr. BFB enjoys hunting for eggs, he’s a bit more laid back about it, while BFB is an egg hunting TIGER! Over the years, things have gotten more elaborate. Last year’s hunt involved assembling an image out of slips of paper found in each egg, using that image to find a map, using the map to find additional clues, using those clues to find the location of our hidden treats (which are always fabulous). My husband is truly a crazed genius when it comes to making this event tons of fun.
(Some of you may be thinking I’m a bit infantile. Yes, I am. Proud of it. I think I do spend a certain amount of time trying to create the safe, happy childhood I didn’t get. But what’s it to ya?)
I was thinking about the fact that BFB will be gone next year, and how it will be sad to have no one to hunt eggs with. I just wish I could produce some children and raise ’em up to hunt eggs. I think I could relinquish my position as chief egg hunter if I could pass the honor on to my progeny. The idea of my husband never getting to hide eggs for his children…well, it doesn’t bear thinking about.
ANYWAY! I’m looking forward to Sunday with something that approaches enthusiasm! It’s almost like I’m feeling an emotion other than blah! I hope you all have un-blah weekends! That’s enough exclamation points!