I start to console, then bristle a bit, reminding her of the true meaning of Easter. She says sheepishly, "I haven't forgotten the meaning, ...I just wanted some easter eggs."
Back up a day to an easter egg hunt at my mom's work. Nina RAN for a giant egg and a kid beat her to it. She gave up, sobbing, and didn't even try for more eggs, so she left empty-handed. Her own fault, for sure, but waking on Easter to find no eggs in her backyard was just insult-to-injury.
"Nina," I said. "It would take the Easter Bunny forever to hide eggs in every kids' yard. He already brings you easter baskets!"
She stomped away and I found her sulking on the couch. I ignored her. I was frustrated at her fit and also angry at myself. Here's why...
I worked until midnight in my office, crawled into bed, forgetting to do my kids' easter baskets! Michael was fast asleep and I was exhausted. Audrey woke me at 4:00 in the morning, telling me she'd looked everywhere but the Easter Bunny hadn't visited yet. I told her to crawl in bed with Michael and I'd take her bed. And by take her bed, I mean I'd stay up reading for 15 minutes until she was asleep again, then assemble the baskets and pass out in her bed at 4:45 a.m.
So, fast forward to Nina now crying about no eggs and I'm see-sawing from frustration to guilt.
Then I open our front blinds.
"Nina! Come look!"
There, in our front yard, are dozens of colorful easter eggs and a big note in chalk that reads, "Happy Easter from the Easter Bunny." I almost cried.
Just yesterday, I photographed a fabulous teen, Janae Calaway. She has a fabulous mom, Beverly. Janae and a group of friends have carried on her sister's tradition of "Egging" several houses on the eve of Easter. They told me stories yesterday about frolicking through yards in the middle of the night...Beverly driving the "getaway car," the girls praying there are no dogs loose at the houses they visit.
I said jokingly, "Well, if you decide to egg my house, I love Twix, Snickers, and Kit Kats." We all laughed. Guess what was in all of the eggs in our front yard?
As if all of this wasn't precious enough, the real topper came a bit later. Audrey had left an egg and a note for the Easter Bunny. It was on the front porch and I didn't even know where she'd put it. She picked it up and said, "Mom, it doesn't look like he opened the egg to read it." She'd left a cute note that said, "Plese open the ege Eastr Bunni." Inside, she'd left him another note.
"I'm sure he read it," I said.
When the girls ran out the front door to hunt the eggs, there was another note, written in chalk, on our driveway. "Thanks for the note!" Audrey. About. Died.
And, again, I almost cried.
So, THANK YOU, our not-so-secret eggers...for saving my bacon, by bringing us eggs.
Happy Easter!
