Oh, Easter!
Holy Week, for us, was filled with Easter Egg hunts. Two in two days, to be exact. The first one, with all the MOPS moms and kids, went rather like last year. The temperature was low enough to bring along jackets, but thankfully this year I wasn't running around with a Kleenex, wiping my child's nose. Although we'd had a practice egg-hunting session with Thomas at home, once more he just wasn't that interested. He gathered up a few eggs, then found an abandoned Hot Wheels car and lost all interest in eggs. At this point, I have let go all expectations. Maybe I have a very strange child who really doesn't care about Easter Eggs. That's fine. It's going to be hard enough to explain how Jesus being resurrected and candy filled eggs go together. (Both make us very happy? Death is now broken, let's celebrate with a Reese's Egg?)
His favorite place was the trampoline. My role was to stand by the trampoline and help all the little kids in and out, as well as making sure that trampoline jumping didn't morph into mosh pit behavior.
Of course, there was someone taking pictures of all the well-coiffed kids, someone painting bunny faces, and a whole group of mamas with little babies enjoying all the snacks on the porch. Must be nice. I did manage to get a plate of snacks for Thomas and I, which fit very well in our nearly-empty Easter basket. The funny thing is that I grabbed a cookie for Thomas, but he didn't want it, so I just set in the basket. Many kids and many rounds of trampoline-jumping later, I picked up the basket, and that cookie was GONE! I couldn't help but laugh - some kid swiped an extra cookie!
His next Egg Hunt, well, there are no pictures of it. Why, you ask? Sam, didn't you care enough about your child's playschool Easter Egg hunt? And I did, even though I you might have overheard me grumbling about holiday parties and how they are just a total loss of a playschool day. I was told the Egg hunting and Easter party was at 11, which meant that I had two-point-five hours of no-kid time, whereas I usually have FOUR hours. Maybe it's because he had missed playschool the week before, but I was feeling sore over losing those kid-free hours. Even if it was for Easter. So I came back at 11, only to discover that they had done the Egg hunt EARLY. I decided not to raise a fuss about it, since it didn't really matter, but according to one of the moms that was there (because she was a saint and stayed to help hide eggs) Thomas did great. And he did, he had a whole basketful of eggs. How did that happen?
The only really good thing that came out of that is that this saintly mother (who just had TWINS! very recently) and I ended up trading numbers to set up a playdate this week. I am always looking to make new friends, for myself AND Thomas, and so I'm hoping we'll have a good time.
On Saturday, we packed up the car and headed down to the family farm. Dutifully, I checked the weather and packed accordingly - it was going to be warm, warm, warm. Some rain but still warm. I cleared out all our jackets from the car, packed only flipflops for myself, plenty of extra outfits for Thomas. (Beaux takes care of his own packing.) When we got home, the rain had turned herself into a slinky chill, despite what the not-so trusty weather.com had predicted. There was plenty of playing outside for Thomas, who I changed into jeans, and then, track pants. I borrowed a sweater from Lovie's closet and fought off feeling hay-fever icky, all the while trailing Thomas to his favorite spots. He got splendidly filthy, of course, but that's the fun in being a farm kid. In fact, the next day, we just stuck him back in his dirty pants.
Easter morning dawned, after a rough night of sleep. Thomas was completely excited over his new box of sidewalk chalk. I sipped my orange juice and thought about all his candy that was soon going to be MINE. Lovie gave him a Easter bag, and after he pulled the first gift out of it (a wooden hammer and pegs to pound) he refused to pull anything else out. I told my mom, "Well, at least he's not greedy!" So I've got some good stuff stored away for a rainy day.
Later in the cool misty morning, Thomas and Gramps talked about boy stuff. Thomas tends to call all vehicles 'cars', whether it's a car or a truck or a tractor. (Bikes and four-wheelers, he gets those right.) He and my Daddy have developed a sweet bond, and Thomas will go anywhere with him. He knows Gramps holds all the keys to the fun stuff, whether it's pounding nails (for real!) or taking long four wheeler rides through the woods.
This is Pilgrim, the dog that appeared at my parents' house around Thanksgiving a year ago. He has turned into such a sweet dog and is finally comfortable enough to endure plenty of hearty pats by Thomas.
Later in the morning, while I was down at my Grandma's making devilled eggs and helping with Easter lunch preparation, Thomas got to ride the tractor with Gramps and do some real work. They brought some dirt to our lane and smushed it down. Who needs another Easter Egg hunt when you can be riding a tractor?
Sadly, we had to leave right after lunch, as Beaux had to report for work at 11 that night. I was the lucky driver, full of our delicious Easter lunch, with two boys snoozing in the car. Still, I was thankful for our togetherness, and even if it wasn't the traditional sort of Easter we've had in the past, I was just glad we could experience the day together. That's all that really matters, in the end.


pilgrim is adorable. that face! and i see a trampoline in your future. happy spring my beautiful friend. love all the photos.
xo
Posted by: lindsey | Thursday, April 08, 2010 at 01:44 PM
What a wonderful Easter! It sounds like Thomas finally figured out the whole Easter Egg Hunt game, of course because you weren't there. That is always how things go! Glad you had such a great celebration!
Posted by: Megsie | Tuesday, April 13, 2010 at 02:01 AM