Well, that’s a wrap on the Easter egg hunts.
For about 15 years we have staged not one, but two Easter egg hunts for our now 16-year-old daughter, Emma.
The reasons we staged not one, but two Easter egg hunts for Emma are two-fold.
Fold No. 1: Because my wife feels that every kid deserves an Easter egg hunt.
Fold No. B: My wife is crazy.
The first Easter egg hunt my wife used to stage for Emma was indoors. My wife would take little plastic Easter eggs, put various amounts of change in them and hide them in our house. She would also take a number of larger plastic Easter eggs, place a dollar bill in them and hide those. Emma would then spend approximately three hours looking for the eggs.
OK, maybe Emma didn’t spend three hours looking for the eggs but when you’re an adult watching a kid hunt for plastic eggs the minutes seem like hours.
The problem with the indoor Easter egg hunt was that my wife always knew exactly how many eggs she hid and would insist that Emma find all of them. The only problem with that was, while my wife always knew exactly how many eggs she hid; she could never remember where she hid them.
Every year, after Emma would fill her Easter basket with found eggs, my wife would count them. This is how the count would always end:
“19, 20, 21, 22 … Nope there are still three more to be found. Keep looking,” my wife would say.
“But, I’m tired. All I want to do is watch baseball and have a beer,” Emma would say.
All right, Emma wouldn’t say that. I would, but still, you get my point.
See, because my wife insisted that every moment of the indoor Easter egg hunt be documented, I would have to follow Emma around our house with a video camera recording every riveting moment of the event. And when I say “riveting,” I mean extremely boring.
Once the indoor egg hunt was completed, we would take a break for Easter dinner, and then my wife would go outside and hide real decorated Easter eggs for Emma to find. I still remember one of Emma’s first outdoor Easter egg hunts. I’m guessing she might have been 2 or 3 at the time. I told Emma that when she found an egg she needed to place it into her basket gently so the egg wouldn’t break. Emma looked at me very seriously, nodded her head, and commenced with her hunting. This is what that hunt sounded like:
“Great Emma you found one. Now gently put it in your basket.”
“OK. (CLUNK. CRACK.)”
Like the indoor hunts, the outdoor Easter egg hunts tended to drag on because, again, while my wife is good with numbers she is not so good with location. So it would take a while for all of the eggs to be rounded up. Sometimes an egg or two would go unaccounted for until weeks later when I would be walking through the yard barefoot.
“(CRACK.) YUCK! Hey, I found the Easter egg.”
But this year there won’t be an Easter egg hunt at our house. Earlier last week my wife asked Emma if she still wanted to do the hunt and Emma, somewhat timidly I might add, asked if it would be OK if we skipped it this year. To my wife’s credit, she didn’t burst into tears or lock herself in our bedroom.
Actually, I’m surprised the hunts went on as long as they did. I mean, Emma long ago outgrew my wife’s Easter egg hunts but she went along with them to make her mom happy. I’m thinking there is a little bit of my wife in Emma.
I’m thinking that Emma believes that every mom deserves to have Easter egg hunts with her daughter for as long as possible.
What the heck, they might even deserve two.
Do you have an idea for Mike Pound’s column? Call him at 417-623-3480, ext. 7259, or email him at email@example.com. Follow him on Twitter @mikepoundglobe.