Egg hunt

My kids scored big at today’s Easter egg hunt. They walked away with a dozen or so plastic eggs. I have been to events in the past where it was utter chaos. Toddlers were plowed down by 10-year-old boys. Kindergartners left with empty baskets. The first time I took my son I criticized parents for acting like it was a competition. I had no idea what was at stake. If you don’t have a strategy your child will leave in tears.

Today’s hunt was well planned. Organizers had designated areas for each age group. I didn’t have to worry that my 3-year-old would get crushed by a size 9 sneaker. Still, we couldn’t sleep walk through the field. I could tell there were toddlers in our group who would cut a bitch for a tootsie roll. Take for example, the little blonde haired, blue eyed fella wearing baby Timberlands. He wasn’t there to play. I gave my daughter a pep talk. “See those eggs, you need to pick them up and put them in your basket.” (I know what you’re thinking, Was that speech written by Tony Robbins? It was brilliant.) She nodded. We had this in the bag.


A kind elderly man lectured the kids about being fair. “Make sure everybody has a chance.” Look, most of the participants in our group still poop in their pants. It’s every man for himself sir. “3, 2, 1!” My daughter took off like a bat out of hell. She picked up a few eggs, but passed up a dozen more. “You missed a few,” I whispered quietly. Inside I was screaming like a drill Sargent. She giggled each time she put another egg in her basket.

We waited until we got home to open the plastic eggs. Each one had a tootsie roll, piece of gum and a starlight mint… because what 2-year-old doesn’t want fresh breath?

Crisis averted. There would no temper tantrum today.

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