Dad took one look at my first school photo and said I looked like a playground lothario. Sometimes he uses big words that stump me. All I know is that when I take a look at this pic I have an urge to use the word hither.
This is actually a photo that was taken before I had my first haircut and just as I was reaching toddlerhood. Ah, youth. I remember my mom and one of my teachers discussing the theory of how the rebellious toddlerhood is like a prequel to being a teenager. Though I'm loath to admit it, there may actually be photographic evidence here that my mom is right. I spy with with my little eye a teeny red stress zit on my upper lip! How embarrassing! Hey girl, why don't you come over here and sit with me on this swing and we can talk about it.
Easter again? I know, I know, but it was kind of a big deal. We had a special guest at our community Easter egg hunt. Can anyone guess who that might have been? Why the Easter Bunny, of course! Wasn't that so nice of him to show up at our little event? And he gave us so many eggs that I thought it would be nice to give him some back.
This got a lot of laughs from the crowd. I guess I'm just supposed to hoard all the eggs for myself. Hmmm. Rookie mistake. Trust me, it won't happen again!
So, as I told you last time, our neighborhood put a little Easter egg hunt together of the local kids. After some practice at home, I felt prepared for the true egg-collecting mission. Well, let me just preface this next bit by saying: I love my parents. They are well-intentioned (being that their intention is to help me in any way possible). But sometimes, they get it wrong. For example, this Easter egg hunt. Calling it it a "hunt" is really a misnomer. I had trained for seeking out brightly colored plastic eggs thoughtfully placed within a natural setting. What I encountered was multiple piles of plastic eggs dumped in the playground, each pile designated for a certain age group. And the pile for the up to three-year-olds? It was on a concrete slab. Not exactly the bucolic experience I had been expecting. It was also super loud. Frankly, I was a little stymied by the whole affair. At least Mom and Dad got the plastic egg bit right, and eventually I got it too.
Sidenote: Do you see that girl in the pink dress running behind us? Well, she is definitely older than three, and my mom had some choice words for her. Apparently the older kids in her area got all the eggs and left her with none, so she decided to come take the eggs from the smallest kids. Appalling! That's what I heard my mom say...along with Where are her parents? and something about That's how despots are made. Oh, Mom, sometimes you are a little spicy.
I hope everyone had a good Easter/Passover/Weekend. For me, it was the first time I really got to enjoy the trappings of the holiday. I was going to say that it was really awesome, but if I'm honest it was really more along the lines of generally good and occasionally confusing. Our neighborhood had an Easter egg hunt in the local park for all the kids, and to prepare me for what Mom and Dad were sure would be total madness (screaming, trampling, hair pulling), they decided to give me a practice egg hunt in the front yard. It took a while for the whole scenario to click, but eventually I got the hang of it.
Did this practice help me to cope with the neighborhood egg hunt? Did I walk away with any eggs, or did I walk away with scratches and bruises...or both? Fear not, faithful readers, all shall be revealed. Stay tuned.
