24 April 2009

Eggstreme Easter Egg Hunt

Remember Easter egg hunts? I recall an egg hunt or two when I was a little girl. I remember running around (wearing a frilly new, popsicle-colored dress) looking for hard boiled eggs with cracked, pastel shells. I'm not sure what happened to them after I found them--since I've never been a big fan of hard boiled eggs. I think my Dad ate them.

In recent years, I don't think any of the adults in our family realized the Easter egg hunt had become an annual event until a few years back when Leemers (then about 3 years old) vetoed an apartment that Grammy was considering... simply because there wasn't a proper yard for egg hunts. Needless to say, that marked the year the hunts became "annual" events.

This year, we were all grateful for a beautiful Easter Sunday when the sun warmed the grass and everything was in bloom. We started the afternoon with a nice brunch out, then headed to my sister's house to let the games begin. There is a science to it all, in our family. Well, more like a color-coordinated, designer-version, kind-of-science. So that everything is "fair" and age-appropriate (with young people ranging in age from 5-16), each young family member was assigned a color by the "Buxom Bunnies" (their name for themselves, not mine) who coordinated the loot-packing of the eggs. And, with Grammy in charge, it is always good loot.

This year, I realized I'm not the only adult who'd like to take part in the treasure hunt. During the feverish process as the BB's were racing against the rapidly increasing chocolate-fueled-anticipation of the hunters and assigning them colors, Sooz cried out ... "Wait! What color am I?" We all laughed one of those "just-kidding, well-not-really" kind of laughs.
The BB's hid the eggs (well) in the backyard, so that even the older kids would be challenged. Brade donned his sunglasses, channeling a Mission Impossible kind of personna --showing his trademark determination and focus. The little girls danced and cartwheeled between corners of the yard while looking. Leemers used his charms to engage a few bystanding aunts to help search for his eggs. Even K was caught up in the excitement of the hunt, keeping his loot close at his side.

Interestingly, all the hunters took frequent breaks during the search to count their loot. In the end, everyone seemed pretty happy. Now I can see that--thanks to Leemer's preschool-age persistence (and foresight)--this fun family tradition that started some 40+ years ago with cracked, hard-boiled eggs has evolved into an activity that we all cherish. ... But, let me just say -- I'M pink next year.

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