It is Easter Sunday, birds are chirping, the dawn is breaking and we are gearing up for what I consider the "magic year" for Benjamin going on an egg hunt. The "magic year" is when he is old enough to understand the premise of collecting eggs and excitedly toddles after each and every one he sees. But, he isn't old enough yet to be ultra competitive, chukking elbows at the competition in order to snatch the candy coated treasures.My gut was right, it was a magical year. And you'll just have to take my word for it, because I don't have the pictures to prove it. Except this one taken on my phone.
In the mad dash to get out the door and to the family festivities, I packed the car with about 40 things, none of which were my camera. You know the camera that I splurged on buying so I could take pristine pictures of events like, oh I don't know, Easter. I may have said a cuss word. Actually there's a chance I said two.
I did, however, remember my camera for a practice-run egg hunt held at a local church the day before. They touted a hunt with "22,000 eggs!!" We knew there would be a crowd, but this looked like a Wal-Mart Black Friday combined with a Wiggles concert. The kids were SUPPOSED to be corralled by age, but anarchy prevailed and you had 13 old dudes with the 3 year olds.
When the "hunt" started there were entire families with trash bags sucking up colored eggs like they were putting on a Dyson vacuum demonstration. Heaven forbid these little toddlers, trying to carry baskets as big as they are, get in the way of these pros. So out of 22,000 eggs, Benjamin liberated 5 from the herd. And I took zero pictures, because they would have been of other people's shoulders and mullets.
Like all parents, we were more perturbed by the situation than Benjamin. In fact, he marveled at the 5 eggs he did get and had a ball popping them open to see what was inside. And best of all, you could tell his fires were stoked for future eggpeditions (zing!).
Our Easter Sunday started off smelling like Hell, literally. Emily is always responsible for preparing deviled eggs for our family luncheon, and they stink like an open vent from the netherworld piping in sulfuric gases. With a dash of a yetti's butt. I can't believe people eat those things. To balance that out, we went to a fantastic service at church, reminded ourselves of the true meaning of Easter, and then hit the road to spend time with the cousins.
The food was eaten, the bushels of eggs were hidden, and Benjamin got syked up with the Kryzak kids for the hunt. It was so funny seeing Benjamin holding his basket in his little preppy outfit, screaming "YAY!" over and over again as he stumbled across another egg sitting in the grass. Each egg was like a fresh Christmas morning to him, only to be topped by the next one he spotted.
It was such a neat, parent-y moment following him around, pointing out eggs that were right in front of him that he somehow didn't see. In fact, there were some right in front of his face, surely he was faking it just to make me feel good. "I'll pretend I don't see the egg so the ol' man feels like he's helpful. You know, to make up for the camera thing."
In this egg hunt, Benjamin came out a winner. His basket was so heavy that he could no longer carry it himself, and he can bench a lot for a baby. Like all kids, he used his spoils as currency to trade with his cousins, and by "him" I mean
"we." Chocolate for fruit snacks. Hard candy for lollipops. Because that's the way Daddy "no fun" Alexander rolls. Next year I'll be crazy and give Benjamin a Lorna Doone®.
Thankfully the event won't go completely undocumented thanks to other family members who didn't forget their cameras. I'm just hoping for that one magic shot that captures the vibe of Benjamin's "magic year" of Easter (I attached two favorites from last year).
Worst case scenario, I stage the first ever Mother's Day egg hunt.
