On Easter Sunday, it was a challenge to have a successful egg hunt for our four children because they are spread out in their ages and understanding.
First, you have Jackson. He’s 12 years old, so he’s wise to the whole setup. He found all his eggs in about four seconds and then spent the rest of the time torturing his 9-year-old brother, Grant.
From the kitchen, Jackson apparently found one of Grant’s eggs on the counter next to the toaster, so he said, “Hey, Grant, do you want some — toast — for breakfast?”
Grant hollered at him, “I said I don’t want any hints!”
Grant was intent on making the pleasure last as long as possible. Later, on the way to church, he kept asking Hailey and me what his goal should be. “Should I try to make my candy last until Halloween?” he asked. “Or my birthday?”
Ellie, meanwhile, is 6. She’s enthralled by the magic of the Easter Bunny. One egg was found on the top of a bookshelf, and Ellie’s blue eyes lit up.
“Wow!” she said. “How did the Easter Bunny get up that high?”
“I don’t know,” I said to her. “How tall do you think the Easter Bunny is?”
She held her hands about 12 inches apart.
“Hmm,” I said. “Maybe so. So how did he get up there?”
“I guess he hopped up the shelves.”
As she found egg after egg, Ellie grew somewhat frustrated. Apparently, she doesn’t like jellybeans as much as the Easter Bunny thought.
She said, to no one in the room, “Would you just give up on giving me jelly beans!”
Then we have Kennedy, the youngest of the four. At 17 months, she slept in and was the last to join the egg hunt. She would pick one up and shake it like a rattle. Inside, there were several Mini M&Ms of different colors, each perfectly engineered to produce a rainbow of drool on her pajamas.
Out of all the kids, I’m the easiest to please when it comes to the egg hunt. I found one with some of last year’s candy in it: Chewy Sprees, which are my favorite. “Look at this!” I said, holding up the candy to show my wife, Hailey. And, ignoring her look of disgust, I tossed them into my mouth. Delicious!