The Plastic Grass Lesson

Today is Easter Sunday.   We had a fairly low-key day with a few things planned.   My children woke up to an Easter basket at their seats on the bar.  My son woke up first and didn’t notice his for some time because he’s interested in making modifications to one of his Lego sets and was busy watching instructional videos online.   My daughter woke up very late, possibly because she’s on antibiotics or possibly because of the time change coming back from a week on the west coast.   But they did notice them eventually.

I heard them take their baskets upstairs and was going to tell them they had to keep them in the kitchen area since there was candy in them but I got distracted with getting ready for my parents and aunt’s arrival and didn’t go upstairs to remind them food stays in eating areas.

My parents and aunt arrived shortly later to happy sounds and two children wanting to show them what they got in their baskets.   I went upstairs with my mother to get the egg hunt baskets only to find the green and purple plastic easter grass everywhere.   EVERYWHERE.   Or at the time that’s what it looked like.

It was in the hall, down the stairs, in the bathroom and all over the bonus room.   It was like a whirlwind had hit.   I wasn’t kind with my tone of voice or words and they were unhappy but we got it cleaned up thanks to my aunt and mother.  

Next, without taking note of the most recent experience, my mother and I hid easter eggs in the yard. I had filled the hunt baskets with more straw.   Did I think to remove it before they went looking for the eggs?  Of course I didn’t.    My son looked in the front yard while my daughter (with assistance from adults due to vision) looked in the back yard.  

When they came in the house they dumped out their baskets to open their eggs—dumping parts of the grass along with the eggs.    I cleaned up all the grass, bagged it and have stuck it in the attic, vowing to remember this double lesson next year.

The Big Boy Update:   My son had a blast looking for his eggs.  He didn’t want help or anyone in the front yard with him but I told him I was taking pictures.    He kept laughing and saying, “you can’t hide from me!” as he dashed off to get another egg.

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  My daughter’s vision is growing quite dim.   She needed help getting all her eggs, some only inches away from her hands.   But she loved the entire experience.   She, true to her nature, offered to share a lot of her candy with dad and me.