I think these happy faces say it all — we have officially overdosed on all things Easter. It’s taken me until just now to fully come out of my Reese’s Peanut Butter Egg induced coma to string a series of semi-coherent words together. I fully believe that the purpose of holidays is to have an excuse to eat all things junk all day long.
Our Easter activities started last week with a neighborhood Easter Egg hunt organized by a thoughtful neighbor across the street. Probably about 20 kids converged on this family’s side lawn and proceeded to tromp, trample, and trounce through her landscaping to scoop up dozens of psychedelic colored eggs. This was Co’s first hunt and Mo, being the dutiful big sister that she is, left her in the dust to score as much candy as her three year old self could. Once Co figured out that eggs = candy, she was tearing up flower beds and overturning shrubs. Neither she nor Mo had a real thought out plan as to gather the eggs; it was a true free-for-all.
The following Saturday was our church sponsored Easter Egg hunt, which I helped to set up. DH brought the girls and at the appointed hour, they, along with what could have easily been 100 other kids, wrought havoc on the grounds all in order to pick up the 1700 (yes, 1-7-0-0) eggs. Evidently, DH had prepped Mo and Co on strategy this time around. Instead of staying with the pack when the “go” was given, he advised them to move to the flanks, effectively decimating the perimeter and then securing the back end of the area. So in essence, while the masses were log-jammed at the starting point, our girls could pick and pluck their way to Easter Egg overload.
Remember the opening scene from Saving Private Ryan, when the doors to the boat open and the troops storm the beach? Yeah, it was a lot like that.
Saturday afternoon, I took Mo to see Alice in Wonderland at the Sandler Center with some friends of ours. She has not seen the Disney movie, so the White Rabbit became the Easter Bunny, followed by incessant questioning as to why he had a watch instead of a basket. Oy! When we got home, the mailman dropped off a ginormous box from DH’s parents that was chock full of Easter Eggs, candy, chicken shaped whistle necklaces and assorted seasonal tchotchkes.
Sunday morning dawned bright and early and I was able to stave off the Easter baskets for a while with the promise of wearing their new Easter dresses. Trying to get a decent photo of the two of them. . .looking in the same direction. . .without the baskets. . .pretty much impossible.
After church, we had dinner at my parents house, which yielded yet another set of baskets, more chocolates, more jelly beans. Just more, more, more. Co’s fine motor skills haven’t developed enough yet that she can peel the paper off of a tootsie roll, so she was content to eat it through the paper. Mo, on the other hand, left a trail of wrappers in her wake as she sampled from the three baskets at her disposal. My brother also came down for the holiday, which just added to the pandemonium as Uncle Christopher likes to tickle, tackle, and toss in the air.
Throughout it all, I have done my best to impart the true reason for the celebration of Easter, though trying to make death and resurrection more comprehensible for a toddler is a challenge. And of course, tying that together with bunnies, eggs, and Peeps. . .well, I think I could explain the glycolysis, the Krebs Cycle, and the electron transport chain in less time (yes, it always comes back to A&P).
Top off the week with a visit from Max from Max and Ruby at the library and my girls are practically begging me for a respite from all things rabbits. Well, maybe that’s just my wishful thinking. Perhaps I need a peanut butter egg to sort it out. . .
