This weekend was Easter. Not being Christian, Easter, like Christmas, is one of those religious holidays that has thankfully drifted so far from its origin, that I don’t feel weird about participating in it. It’s just one of those special days that we, as adults, tell our children to do ridiculous things. I challenge you to try explaining Halloween, Santa Claus, or the Easter Bunny to a child in anything close to a rational way.
So, in preparation for the big community Easter egg hunt we practiced finding eggs in the yard the day before. Vibrantly dyed chicken eggs lying in the grass apparently take a close second to dandelions (which is fine by me), but once she found a couple, Josie delighted in smashing two eggs together until I peeled one for her and demonstrated that these were actually food, not musical instruments.
Today, we woke up bright an early at 6:30am, dressed Josie in her chicken outfit from Halloween, and headed off to the 82nd annual Port Townsend Easter egg hunt, put on by the Elks Club. Josie “found” one egg, thanks to an elderly Elks Club member who rolled it in front of her. Like any toddler with a 30-second attention span and a limited grasp for bizarre holiday traditions, she wobbled over toward the swing set and we spent the rest of the morning there.
And here’s my obligatory creepy Easter Bunny photo op, though this guy is nothing compared to these bunnies.