Dying Easter eggs is such a an awesome thing. Eggs are already a nearly perfect natural creation, a perfect source of protein, a gentle and evocative sloping shape, a pale rainbow of delicate colors that call to mind all that is strong and clever in nature. I’m sorry, but I’m something of an egg fanatic (although I intend to only keep about 5 chickens one day, not the 180ish that my father tended) and while I’m luke warm about chickens, I’m so thankful for the eggs that they produce that I’m willing to make peace with the bird-brained birds.
Quick aside? My dad, a seasoned farmer, has always said that the two places you never want to fall down and stay down are the chicken house and the pig pen, as both creatures will make quick work of anything in their path. Keep that in mind next time you need to dump a body, ok? The evidence will be gone-zo. Just something to keep in mind. Aren’t you happy you stopped by to read today?
So wait, where was I? Yes! Easter! Let’s see if I can recover from that aside with a couple of pictures of our boy coloring his first eggs:
We went for the traditional solid colors because Asher has the attention span of a two-year-old and I think there’s something incredibly charming about simply dyed eggs. The bulldozer had to help because, you know, bulldozers are pretty helpful like that. After we dyed the last egg, Asher said very affirmatively, “Ok! You tell dat Easter Bunny to c’mon now? I wanna see dat Easter Bunny!” and then I laughed a lot and tried to explain that it would be a couple of days. (We dyed our eggs last night because we’re going to NC for Easter this weekend.)
Ok, so let’s just go for broke and do another quick aside since I’m already talking about funny things that Asher says. The other night I was putting on his pajama pants and he looked up at me and said very seriously, “Dose jambo pants good for me”. When I asked him why, he said, “Dose other dinosaur [footed] jambos not good for me. Dey hurt my wittle toes-ies!” with a look of such concerned sincerity while nodding appreciatively about the foot-less pants that I was putting him in. Apparently he’s outgrown his dino pajamas and they’ve been hurting his wittle toes-ies! Do you think the council will be taking this into account as they prepare the Mother Of The Year nominations?
That was the last aside, I promise.
So we also had a little impromptu egg hunt for Asher and his little buddy Austin last week to try to give them a leg up on the competition this coming weekend. (I kid, I kid…at least I do. The egg hunt is Asher’s first ‘competitive’ event, we’ll see how Drew “The Coach” Walton conducts himself on the field this weekend.)
They had a serious case of the cutes.
We told them to close their eyes while we hid the eggs, and this happened.
The boys wanted to use ALL the baskets.
Louie did as good of a job watching as a gigantic six-month-old puppy can be expected to. What he lacks in calm, he makes up for with his photogenic ways:
And while Austin’s little sister Cassidy wasn’t quite ready to participate in the hunt this year, something tells me that this little miss is going to be a formidable opponent for these boys one day soon.
So that pretty much covers it…we’ve discussed one of nature’s finest creations, dumping bodies, the funny things kids say, and holidays as a contact sport. That’s what it’s all about!