The night before Easter, I attempted to shed a small amount of light on the religious meaning behind the eggs. Luca asked, “Who is Jesus again?” I gotta get those guys to church.
The boys and their cousins dyed eggs and smashed two on the floor. In their defense, my brother smashed one as well. I yelled at him as a surrogate for the kids.
They wanted to know how the Easter Bunny got into the house. I told him he used the same techniques as Santa, but also had the power of teleportation for houses without chimneys. The debate that raged after wasn’t whether or not a giant candy toting rabbit could exist, but whether or not teleportation was real.
Elijah wrote a note to the Easter bunny requesting an outside egg hunt. I informed him that the Easter Bunny didn’t do outside hunts because it was going to be cold that night and he didn’t want to schlep all over the yard, getting his Vans all muddy.
However, a few hours later our extremely nice neighbor Lexa came by with bag full of eggs for an outside hunt. She had the brilliant plan to assign each of her kids and our kids an official color of egg they would be responsible for. This eliminated the “Hunger Games” affect. So the Easter Bunny soaked his Vans.
The next morning, on cue, the boys awoke at 6:30am. But the Easter Bunny got smart this year and left them both video games. So they raced downstairs to play until the much less stupid hour of 8:30am for our official hunt.
So much candy. So very much candy. Each child had a mouth full of jelly beans/Peeps/M&Ms for the entire day. What could go wrong with that?
Before the barf story begins, have you ever microwaved a Peep? Eli heard talk of it over at the neighbor’s and demonstrated it to us with one unfortunate pink Peep test subject. The results were Cronenberg-esc to say the least. Guess who got to clean that up?
Anyway, the day ended with Eli’s bowling birthday party (I’ll get to that later this week) and he came home complaining of a vague stomach ache. My accusations that he had eaten too much candy were met with a gallon of brightly colored vomit into our large green mixing bowl.
It was if Eli wanted to create his own homemade Easter treat inside half a plastic shell. I would have taken a picture if it weren’t the grossest thing ever.