Our neighborhood organized an egg hunt in the woods this weekend, Sweetpea’s very first. Since we’re only just back from our trip, I didn’t think we’d make it, but a friend called and said she had sent in eggs not only for her girl but for ours. So nice of her! And of course that settled the matter.
That morning the weather was colder than anyone expected — downright dank and chilly — but the kids had a grand time. Younger than most, Sweetpea nevertheless held her own, rustling eggs out of pine needles and from between rocks and roots. We have since played Egg Hunt many times in our own living room, and no doubt will do so for some time; the game appears to have staying power.
As for me, I’m finally coming out of my jet-lag stupor. When I wake up in the mornings, I not only know my own name, but I have a good idea of where I am and what day it is. I’ve even started to remember roughly where I was when I broke off rewriting that novel of mine.
Surely it can be only a small step from that to actually writing, yes? Though between joining in egg hunts and planting poppies and making hot cross buns, I somehow haven’t gotten around to that yet.
Sounds wonderful! We haven’t hidden eggs for a few years, but my husband was inspired and went ahead. When our good friends who’ve joined us for Easter since they were Sweatpea’s age drove up with their dad, the high school age girls said, “Oh, there must be little kids coming, I wish…”
and when Peter asked, “are you too old…” they gave a resounding No! Although he told them the eggs didn’t go past 100 yards into the woods, we all felt in danger of losing them, bound to find those last eggs…
I love it that they were so gung-ho! You’re never too old for an egg hunt. When I was growing up, my brothers and I used to hold one for my mom and dad after Easter brunch. Their antics (my mom so earnest, even as my dad grabbed any round object he could find and called it an “egg”) made us shake with laughter.
Sounds wonderful! We haven’t hidden eggs for a few years, but my husband was inspired and went ahead. When our good friends who’ve joined us for Easter since they were Sweatpea’s age drove up with their dad, the high school age girls said, “Oh, there must be little kids coming, I wish…”
and when Peter asked, “are you too old…” they gave a resounding No! Although he told them the eggs didn’t go past 100 yards into the woods, we all felt in danger of losing them, bound to find those last eggs…
I love it that they were so gung-ho! You’re never too old for an egg hunt. When I was growing up, my brothers and I used to hold one for my mom and dad after Easter brunch. Their antics (my mom so earnest, even as my dad grabbed any round object he could find and called it an “egg”) made us shake with laughter.
Sounds wonderful! We haven’t hidden eggs for a few years, but my husband was inspired and went ahead. When our good friends who’ve joined us for Easter since they were Sweatpea’s age drove up with their dad, the high school age girls said, “Oh, there must be little kids coming, I wish…”
and when Peter asked, “are you too old…” they gave a resounding No! Although he told them the eggs didn’t go past 100 yards into the woods, we all felt in danger of losing them, bound to find those last eggs…