Over the years, our family has created so many fond Easter memories together. Each memory is significant in it’s own way. Each memory stirring a different emotion at it’s remembrance. But there is one particular Easter memory, however, that stands out vividly in my mind like a flashing neon sign on a dark night.
The year was 2001. It was Avery’s very first Easter. The plan was to go to church that morning, and then as we so often did, we would all meet up at my older sister’s house for lunch and an egg hunt. Since my dad doesn’t go to church, we left him with instructions to get the egg hunt ready while we were at church. So we left the plastic eggs, chocolate bunnies, and Easter baskets in the living room for him to hide.
The Sunday morning service came & went. And as planned, we all met back up at my sister’s house. After lunch, it was time for the annual Easter Craziness as the kids search high & low for anything that resembles sugar. With a few reminders on being kind one to another, we opened the back door to let them run wild like a pack of ravenous wolves through the yard.
Everything seemed to be moving along in a fairly standard fashion… but that was not to last. One of the kids (I can’t remember who) found an entire bag of plastic eggs hidden in a bush. These eggs were still in their original wrapping from the store & completely empty.
My sister & I looked at each other… brows knitted together in bewilderment.
Then realization lite my sister’s eyes. These empty plastic eggs were leftover from the church egg hunt she had helped prepare for. The fact that they were still in the manufacture’s packaging in a 24 count, did not seem at all odd to my dad. Nor did the fact that they were completely empty. He hid them anyway… just as they were.
My sister & I looked at each other again… this time smiling.
Growing up, my mom was always the one to work out the finer details of the Easter egg hunt. He really didn’t get it… bless his pea-picking little heart! But this was not all he overlooked…
My son popped up from behind the playhouse proudly holding his chocolate bunny. His chocolate bunny that had been spending hours basking in the April sunshine! It really didn’t resemble a bunny anymore. Have you seen the Johnny Depp remake of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory? Do you remember the scene where the kids first walk through the gates to the factory and are greeted with that creepy little musical featuring animated plastic dolls? Remember what those plastic dolls looked like when they caught on fire? How their faces started to drip? And how their eyeballs slid down those faces? Can you see it in your mind?
This is what the chocolate bunny looked like, only, he also appeared to have been trying to escape when he started to melt. His poor little bunny face was all pressed up against the plastic display window as if he had been begging for someone to release him from his cardboard oven… one candy eyeball dripping down his face.
All of the chocolate bunnies we found that Easter had clearly undergone some form of torture or another. They all looked like little bunny freak shows. The children were running and screaming in fear. The visions of them still haunt their dreams. They shall never be the same.
We absolutely will never again, under any circumstances, ask my dad (bless his heart) to be in charge of hiding the eggs, the baskets, or the chocolate bunnies… ever again.
This year we encountered yet another Easter anomaly. It started with hiding the eggs outside, which is something we haven’t done since the brutal Chocolate Bunny Tortures of ’01. But there we were, throwing caution to the wind, rationalizing that it was okay since no chocolate bunnies would be involved this time. And everything was moving along quite swimmingly….
We hid the eggs. We released the hounds kids. We were thoroughly enjoying watching them as they ran here & there with their baskets in hand, greedily searching out as many eggs as possible in effort to dominate their opponent. Only a few eggs remained to be found. The children were all worked up in a competitive frenzy… blindly darting through the yard from one conquest to the next. And this is where the sweet serenity unravels…
Now, I did not see what happened next as I had excused myself to use the restroom. But I heard it.
There was a splash.
A big one.
The actions which lead to this event will forever be murky in my mind as I did not witness it. But I am told that Avery, in effort to take possession of another egg, attempted to rush past my husband who was sitting on the diving board, when she lost her footing and fell into the pool. Her basket of plastic eggs stuffed with sugary goodness followed her. These, my truffles, are not water resistant. Nor do they float.
So, after fishing Avery’s poor, defeated, little soul out of the pool, my merciful husband recovered her eggs from their watery grave… laughing all the while.
There’s absolutely nothing like emotionally traumatizing a child on Easter… twice.
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