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.
We survived our first day of school & work. I started at 4:30 a.m. I had time to sit and talk to David, drink coffee, enjoy some picture taking. I was 5 minutes late, even still! I forgot to give Kate her medicine and remembered 1/2 way across the mountain. Then I missed the turn to the school, putting me in thicker-than-necessary traffic. Add in school zones and 8 o'clock rush. ARG! Tomorrow will be better . . . I hope.
The girls enjoyed their first day. Sarah Kate cried; she cries anytime I leave. I had to remind Claire to give me a hug. She was on the look-out for other kids to play with the minute we got out of the car. They seemed tired but pleasant when I picked them up this afternoon. They went down early tonight, pooped from the time change and life change.
Props to David for helping: coffee, breakfast for the girls, buckling them in, meeting me in the driveway with medicine, cleaning the kitchen, and cooking dinner. He said he felt very productive today. He enjoys being a stay-at-home husband.
We realized today, or at least verbalized it, that Sarah Kate is a little girl all of a sudden. She talks, sings, answers questions, fights with her sister, colors, makes requests. She's so meek and mild. I was unprepared for her to transition from baby to child. Some of my favs:
Claire is becoming a grown-up girl. She is, of course, excited about school on Monday. She has a crazy imagination. She imagines scenarios and gives you specific instruction on how you fit into her plot, including what you are to say. "When I knock on the door, you say, 'is that my baby?' then chase me and tickle me because you are the monster." She vascillates between being Sarah's hero and her nemesis. She loves to tickle her, make her giggle with funny sounds and faces. She equally loves to hide her own toys and jerk the toy-de-jour from her hands. She asks insightful questions like, "when I'm a grown up, who will be the kid?" and "how does Paw-Paw pay for his house if he doesn't work?" Her eyes sparkle with mischief and joy. This picture doesn't do her justice!
