Easter Memory

My Mom and various husbands du jour didn't celebrate Easter especially, though I do remember that I loved coloring eggs when I was little.

My best memories of Easter are from my own children's growing-up years, especially the youngest, ninjakitty. My sister's only child is a dear girl just a year older than ninjakitty. For several years when the girls were very little my sister and I would bring our families to Grandma's for the weekend.

Saturday afternoon sis and I would shut ourselves in a back bedroom while the girls played outside, and we would laugh and gossip while we stuffed candy into plastic eggs. Then we'd hide them all over Gram's back yard that night after bedtime and hope the squirrels didn't get into them before the next morning!

Then on Sunday morning we'd give the girls empty baskets and turn them loose in the yard. They were so cute, tearing around and screaming with delight when they found an egg.

The first year we did this they were having so much fun searching and we were having such a blast watching them that sis's husband decided to get in on it. Because the baskets were so small the girls would run up on the porch every few minutes to empty their eggs into Gramma's lap before dashing back out to the yard. Well, brother-in-law sidled over to Gramma and quietly scooped a handful of eggs into his pocket then wandered out into the yard. He told the girls he was going to help, but was he really did was drop those pilfered eggs all over the yard when no one was looking. Then he did it again, and again, until the grown-ups were all laughing so hard that the girls finally realized something was up. But not before they had been hunting for and repeatedly finding the same couple of dozen eggs for nearly an hour.

Gramma is gone now and those little girls are nearly grown women. But remembering that morning still makes me smile.