Easter Bunnies

So, Easter kind of snuck up on me--in that our vacation went until Palm Sunday, and what with getting home and unpacked and back into school routines and dog routines and regular life, I suddenly realized that I was going to be on call to pull off a holiday.

(Incidentally, the hardest part of coming back from vacation? The fact that the Nice Person doesn't take the plates away after you are finished with them and make them disappear. No, once you are at home, YOU have to do the dishes.)

I remembered by Saturday, however, and had time to pick up brunch ingredients, Easter candy and a couple of cool books for presents. Easter Chez Evil is traditionally an Easter egg hunt, with little candies in plastic eggs, and little gifts or coins, and sometimes a slip of paper with a gift for [your name here].

So, Mr. Sweetie and the kidlets had been packed off to church, the cinnamon rolls and turkey medallions were coming along nicely in the oven, and. . . .

I couldn't find the Easter eggs. I bought eggs about, oh, eleven years ago? And had some old baskets that we used each year? And I usually put the whole shebang (there's a word you don't here often any more) into a box that I store in the basement. This year? No box. Couldn't find it anywhere.

So, church is over, family is returning to brunch and egg hunt, they think, and I have no plastic eggs. Quick! It's Captain Internet! Boy, am I glad to see you! Can you tell me if there are any stores open on Easter morning where I can quick get some plastic eggs?

Cape flowing with the speed of typing, Captain Internet scans the websites of the likely candidates. Alas! The vestiges of Blue Laws mean that in the multi-cultural 21st Century, where on ordinary days a noticeable percentage of the staff in retail is Muslim. . .everything is closed for Easter.

So, in the end, I wrapped up the gifts and notes in Kleenex (TM) and hid them around. I took 10 pieces of each of 3 kinds of candy and hid that--so we would know when it was all found. I had a single basket, which the kidlets shared. And you know what? They thought it was cool. They liked the gifts, we had a tasty brunch, and all was well.

But you can bet your ass that I was at Target before 8:30 this morning buying plastic eggs for next year.