Chuck and I just got done hiding the eggs. I have no idea how many we hid, nor do I remember exactly where we hid them, which means in a month or so we'll have no problem getting rid of lingering guests.
I like Easter, but it snuck up on me this year, as did preparing for it. Junior's basket is decidedly humble, and besides one pastel egg tree, I didn't put much out. I'm a connoisseur of magazines and they were brimming with catchy Easter creatures to concoct (Easter bunnies made with pink pipe cleaners, tampons and glitter? Great idea, Martha!) and various ways to wow my guests, but every time I started reading them I—yawn—couldn't quite—yawn—get into it.
I blame the children.
I spent Thursday morning as teacher's helper in Junior's nursery school. We helped 25 four year olds make Easter baskets from old milk containers. I was in charge of helping them glue on cotton tails, stick on whiskers, draw on faces, and affix ears. In case you've never been to hell it sounds like this:
"I don't want my bunny's ears there! I want them THERE. No, not THERE. THERE!"
"I need a tail. I need a tail. I need a tail. My tail fell off. I need a tail. I need a tail. I need a tail."
"You dress funny."
"I HATE craft time!"
"I have a cat at home. Do you have a cat? Does it have a name? My cat's name is Mark. My uncle is Mark. Does your cat sleep? My cat eats."
"I need a tail. I need a tail. I need a tail. My tail fell off. I need a tail. I need a tail. I need a tail."
"His basket is bigger than mine!"
"I don't want my bunny's tail there! I want it THERE. No, not THERE. THERE!"
I have never craved grain alcohol so desperately. Every brain cell ached.
It still does.
But that's ok. It's all ok. It doesn't matter that there isn't an overflowing Easter basket for Junior. It doesn't matter that our colored eggs are riddled with animal-patterned acne and encased in electrical wire. We don't need opulence. We don't need smiling, pink bunnies peeking out of every crevice to celebrate life, family and holiday. If you think about it, we need so very little exposure to young children to be happy.
Oops, that last sentence is the bunny tail talking.
Hold me! It was frightful!
4 comments:
Zebra Acne? is that like bunny herpes?
I used to love volunteering at my goddaughters school when they were young but then I could go home to my child free house. Made all the difference....
Happy Easter. The kids will love whatever you do
Had a couple of the grandkids for the weekend, so we colored eggs last night. Thought about buying pre-made up baskets, but I didn't want to spend too much, so I bought cheap baskets at the supermarket, along with coloring books, crayons, bubbles and a small toy for each. Plus a few chocolates. I was floored at the checkout to discover I'd spent fifty bucks.
Yeah, little kids doing crafts are really really scary. Actually, kids in mobs doing anything are scary. My oldest daughter is seventeen and just announced that all the kids she knows are brats and she is NEVER having any. All three of my kids were shocked when I didn't argue with her....
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