I love my family. They’re crazy, loud, and opinionated. They’re a bit messy, but they always find a way to make things entertaining. Oh, and they’re very competitive.
Easter is no exception.
See, we’ve never really believed in the Easter Bunny. When I was six, I caught my parents filling eggs the night before, and nothing was ever really the same after that. Luckily, we’ve come up with our own traditions. Or, shall I say, contests.
The rules are as follows: each child may choose another child’s eggs to hide in a predetermined area. The youngest kid hides first, then so on. Each person has the same number of eggs, but a completely different color so as not to cause confusion. After all the eggs are hidden, chaos ensues. Five children race against time, hoping to recover the elusive plastic capsules before their sweet delicacies melt in the hot spring sun.
It ends up being a pretty good time. This past weekend, some of my favorite hiding spots were inside an air conditioning cover, taped to the underside of the porch, and stuffed six inches up a rain gutter.
I wouldn’t take Easter any other way.