As I write the title, I consider how funny that is, "hunting eggs." Like it is a sport involving special equipment, scents, calls, and clothing. I guess it does require all of that. Easter baskets, plastic eggs, smell of chocolate and sugar-covered marshmallows (because marshmallows need to be sweeter!), squeals of delight, parents coaxing "grab that egg!", and pastels of every shade. Children get the adrenaline rush of a middle-aged man in a tree stand when he hears the rustle of bushes across the field. They spot flashes of color all over the fellowship hall (when it's raining on hunting day) and can't decide where to dart first. "Look how many eggs I got!" they each brag, proudly displaying their basket.Sarah Kate didn't get into the rush of it all. She's a rookie, just happy to watch everyone else run around frantically. I tried to help her find eggs, but she just didn't get too excited about it. I did get a rise out of her when I tried to put her candy away. "Nandy! Nandy!" Such a cutie!
Why no pictures of Claire? She moves too fast for my slow camera! I didn't put it on action mode so she's a big pink and purple blur!
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