Egg Hunters and Memory Loss

At our house on Easter Sunday, we like to enjoy a traditonal egg hunt. With all these kids, it's a must. Mom and I hid 135 eggs (yeah, yeah, overkill, blah blah blah) boiled and plastic, around my yard. The dads were working swiftly on the new treehouse during the hiding, so it was up to us ladies to remember where every single egg was.

 . . . .

What was I talking about?


Oh yeah.  Easter. And so,

Underneath these calm, smiling faces are wheels and fireworks waiting to burst into action!  How cruel of me to make them wait just one more moment.... Ready, set, GO!

In a blitz of energy, everyone sprints off to find the little hidden treasures.

Like father, like son.  Tate and Dad wore their matching work blues today.

Victoria's eggs were the coveted "golden" eggs of the day.  There were only two, but Tabi found one.  The prize was a grand feeling of victory and a pat on the back.

Tate.

Hopers found a few of the eggs we dyed with turmeric.

And Faith found the other Victoria egg.  Give yourself a pat on the back, honey, I'm holding a camera.

Teegan.

 

 

Faith and her Daddy, searching for more eggs. Somehow (yet not surprising because it happens every year) we didn't find all the eggs. I swear the missing eggs are the ones Mom hid.  She swears they're the ones I hid.  But at any rate, there are nine out there in my yard right now.... or in my dog's stomach.

 

Happy Easter!