I just finished reading what Katie (www.yuckysaladwithbones.com) wrote about Easter.  I laughed because every word is true.  I remember punting smaller kids (I was third oldest) down the stairs in my dash to the bottom.  I also remember stuffing eggs in my bathrobe pockets because they didn't have my initials on them.  Find that Joey!
I don't remember ever coming anywhere near winning the egg hunt.  JP won until Billy got quicker and once that happened, I was way too cool to care anymore.
Katie was right about the egg dying, too.  Joe and I always made the best eggs.  Joe didn't make as many as I did and he always produced at least one abomination because he would construct these insanely Goldbergian contraptions in attempts to create interesting patterns that usually backfired and took all day to do so. I remember eggs so covered in rubber bands that you could have played tennis with them before hiding them.
My methods were simple; I was the Queen of "Find a Formula That Works. Repeat In All Available Color Combinations."
That method serves me well, to this day.
Gotta go.

 

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