Somewhere last month I lost a week. I don’t know how it happened; I only know that I showed up at my friend’s house one day, was puzzled by the fact that her son had already celebrated his fifth birthday, and then realized that my notion of the current date was incorrect. The root cause of this, I believe, is the fact that I don’t hold down the kind of job which would require me to distinguish between the 16th and the 23rd.
One of the results of this was that I’d given Easter scarcely a thought before it was upon us. I am notoriously lazy about holidays anyway, but given sufficient warning I usually do some planning. This time it wasn’t until someone dropped a flyer on our doorstep for their Easter service that I realized what was going on.
Fortunately I still had the dye kit that I’d picked up in the post-Easter sale last year, so I boiled some eggs and we got down to it. And how smart was this? Instead of making all nine colors in one go, I only did three colors and a few eggs at a time. Thus we got three short dying sessions (they have minimal stamina for it anyway), each one with a third the mess. I admit, it was an inspiration based more on a shortage of small bowls in the house, but it still worked.
In keeping with the lazy theme, I failed to creep out in the pre-dawn darkness to hide eggs; instead I hid plastic eggs mid-morning, and the kids had so much fun finding them that we did it about eight times together. And that night I whisked the baskets away after dinner and brought them back with their goodies for dessert. Non-traditional? Sure it is. But tough cookies — it’s the laziest Easter ever, but the kids are happy and it sure works for me.