The first is don't expect to all get along on Sunday afternoon if you get up at 5:30 am to go to a sunrise service. If there are ten people involved and five are children, expect to banish one adult person for excessive crabbiness and break up multiple verbal... ahem... how do I put this nicely?... altercations between the children. Everyone needs a nap. E.V.E.R.Y.O.N.E. The one who protests the nap probably needs two. You may have to actually push one adult into the bedroom and hold the door until that adult falls asleep.
The second is that the only proper way to dye Easter eggs is ONE CHILD AT A TIME. While coloring a mere fifteen eggs, two out of five children were banished. One of them was the twelve year old. Apparently, at age twelve eggs are still a precious commodity not to be handed over to a five year old who is tired and crying... It's clearly better to yell at the five year old than hand over an egg.
The other tip on egg dying is that if you have one of those magic wax crayons where the writing shows up after you dip the egg, guard it with your life. If it gets out of your sight, one child may make his or her mark on just about every egg to the great dismay of all the other children. On the other hand, you may find out that one child is getting there in his understanding of the reason why we celebrate Easter by thanking Jesus. And that was a sweet, post-color surprise, even if the other egg he wrote on proclaimed his own personal greatness and rawk star status to all...
And on the whole egg thing, it seems as I discuss this year's coloring party with my mommy friends that many of us had similar eggs-plosions at our kitchen tables. Last year I had eight children coloring four dozen eggs at my table and only broke up two minor squabbles over who got what sticker (guess what... I anticipated this and had an eggstra sheet tucked away...). This year I couldn't begin to count the major penalties. The penalty box was out of seats. So, I have concluded that... dude, something was in the air... or that the key to egg dying happiness is vast quantities of chicken ovums. And said dying should preferably occur at least the day before Easter (but in defense of the "grome-ups", the interest level was beyond low on Saturday due to cousins arriving and the draw of an 83 degree swimming pool).
The third thing is that some people actually remain in their golf carts at outdoor church serivces. Because they might need to make a quick 15 mph getaway? This was a completely new idea to me. Who knew? Apparently, I need to get with it.
Finally, when taking a little Easter boat ride, under no circumstances should you listen to your mother. You were perfectly fine in your seat. And relatively dry. Switching to the other side of the boat because the children were not getting splashed... well, that instantly throws the entire universe out of whack. We. Got. Drenched. And that water was stinking cold. Thanks, Mom. (Just kidding, Mom. Well, mostly. I'm not trusting your boat-seating-intuition any longer.)
And all this swirled around in my head and made me ask myself the question of why is Easter my favorite holiday?
the small things may not go the way you planned, but
the Lord is risen.
The tomb is empty.
Egg debacle and all...
|I'm not budging until every square inch of this sheet is colored. And you can't make me...|
|We really do love each other. In moments...|
|My baby sister looking rather glamorous and thoughtful. Or is that just bored and tired.|
|Bonus, this wasn't last year's haul... what happened to our plan and the diagram I drew illustrating how to own the 5 and 6 year old hunt? Maybe next year.|
|Oh Captain, my Captain. C is for cloudy, cold, and choppy lake conditions.|
|No, I want to ride with so-and-so... Mini-boating is always a good time.|
|No. you can't have my seat. I'm not stupid. I'm dry.|
|Before the wave...|