Sometimes it takes a holiday to realize my kids are still young at heart. Since we have two teenagers and a preschooler, it’s a challenge to find activities they all can enjoy. Easter, and the promise of a basket full of surprises, was enough to make my big boys seem a bit younger than they look.
Being a bit of a procrastinator, I’d crawled into bed Saturday night without getting their baskets ready for Easter morning. I tried to guilt my husband into helping, but we were both too comfortable and he wouldn’t budge, even though I told him that I’d bought the stuff—the least he could do was help place it in their baskets. That guilt trip got stalled not far down the road.
So Easter morning, I assembled their goodies, hid the baskets around the house and climbed back into bed, settling in with a book until they woke up. Our daughter found hers first and her brothers weren’t too far behind. The boys’ favorite treat was a set of Nerf guns. We’ve been on Spring break the past week and a few days into the vacation, sheer boredom sent them digging through the toy closet. They’d unearthed the totes full of Legos, and one found an errant, semi-functioning Nerf gun that rekindled their desire to shoot each other with foam darts.
The Easter Bunny delivered. Before I could lay some ground rules about shooting each other at close range, the first dart had been fired. And hit little sister square in the forehead as she was trying to unwrap a chocolate bunny. There was no blood and hardly a red mark, but that didn’t mean she didn’t wail. She’s a quick study and knows the harder she cries the more trouble her brothers get into.
Fast forward to a great morning at church and then a fun Easter dinner with our friends. Our brave neighbors, Matt and Tammy, graciously hired a Fajita Wagon and catered lunch for about 50 friends and neighbors. It was great. Good food and fellowship and no dirty dishes to clean up afterward. I didn’t hear anyone complain about not getting to eat ham or sweet potatoes.
Later we had an egg hunt in our back yard, and our thirteen-year-old complained briefly about how few eggs were hidden and how easy they were to find. I stared at him for a moment and then smiled, “And how old are you?” He smiled back and mumbled something about how he still likes hunting for eggs. I’m guessing he wouldn’t admit that to his friends who already have facial hair and deep voices.
Hope you had a happy Easter and if the bunny brought you a basket, I hope he brought some chocolate—and maybe something that lets you shoot someone you love in the forehead without actually hurting them. On a side note, since it was Easter, I indulged in two glasses of sweet tea—and then couldn’t sleep. No, you’re never too old for surprises or too smart to remember the effects of caffeine. Or maybe that’s just me.