I admit I dropped the ball, or egg as it were.
I’ve done it before, too. I guess I’m not as good at thinking ahead as I once was. (I blame the children.) Valentine’s Day was an example. I didn’t write my Valentine’s Day story until after the day had passed. (But I did pretty well at Christmas and New Years and Halloween so give me a break already!)
Anyway, Easter has come and gone with narry a word from me about it’s importance and/or about chocolate.
For many, Easter is about the resurrection of Jesus from the dead. For others, it’s become a cultural holiday with little to do about religion. Whichever way you celebrate it, I hope it was a good one for you and your family.
When my sister and I were young we put on (or were forced into, if you were me) our special Easter dresses and off we went to church with my mom while my dad stayed home and helped the Easter Bunny prepare for our special hunt.
Who got the better deal depends on who you ask.
One Easter my neighbour or my dad, I don’t remember who, hid an egg in one of our Cabbage Patch Kids’ diapers. It would have been funny had anyone remembered it was there. We eventually found it. What a dirty diaper indeed!
Since having children of my own, and probably as a result of working at a newspaper and being assigned to cover them, we have, for the last two years anyway, taken our kids to community egg hunts.
This year there were events from one end of the Cowichan Valley to another and my kids, albeit terrified they’d run into the Easter Bunny, were excited to collect eggs.
I don’t blame them. I’m all about the chocolate too, but some Easter Bunnies you run into while out and about do look a little sketchy.
My editor brought up an idea as we talked about our long weekends…a community Easter egg hunt for grown-ups. She was quite keen on the idea and we both believe it would be very well attended.
Adult colouring is a thing. As are grown-up dodge ball leagues. Why cap it at that?
Imagine all the moms jockying for position in order to fill their Easter baskets with chocolate they could then hide from their families in tampon boxes or the frozen vegetables. Nobody but Mom ever looks there, right? And moms need chocolate for sanity reasons. It’s a fact.
Imagine the dads trying to prove to their kid they’re the best dad ever by “winning” the hunt. Ankles would get twisted. Elbows would be thrown. Bones would be broken.
And that’s just the moms and dads. Imagine if we added young adults and seniors into the mix!
Curious, I searched Google to see if adult egg hunts are a thing. They are! Mostly at private parties it seems. And it’s suggested mimosas ought to be involved.
This whole idea is starting to sound a little dangerous. I wonder if participants would be willing to sign a waiver…and maybe wear helmets…?