Easter Sunday 2014

You’ll be happy to know that three of our major Easter traditions remain intact.

Egg coloring apron from the Derelicte line.

Egg coloring apron from the Derelicte line.

1. Nothing fancy, just 5-color dye, a bunch of plastic utensils and cups and Madison’s minuscule attention span. We had the carton of 18 eggs from Costco; sadly, we lost two to drops. Lynnette made my favorite of the day, a green egg (!) with a likeness of Abby on it. My cousin Alana and uncle Reyn went all #artsy with a few of their eggs. I made a Mets egg and an IMOP egg, the standard Easter fare. Madison drew a butterfly, wrote her name, and went straight pink with her eggs. All of these beautiful, unique eggs will all end up the same place: in a plastic container as part of egg salad. Perhaps I shall use this when covering Act V of Hamlet next year. Alas.

Found them all!

Found them all!

2. Madison tore off her garbage bag apron once she found out my mom was setting up an egg hunt for her inside the house. She tried to sneak into the house but was intercepted by Tanya. Madison couldn’t go back to dying eggs. She’s the least patient person I know, and I hope that’s 95% being a six-year old and only 5% an inherent part of her personality. Whenever she gets excited about something, she’s the kid version of Kristen Wiig’s “I’m Freaking Excited” character. She just can’t contain herself. Well, she went through the a bunch of different rooms in the house with Tanya at her side. Other members of my family gave her extremely thinly-veiled hints about the locations of the eggs. I feel like these hints ruin the overall spirit of an Easter egg hunt, but then I remember that I am an adult and Madison is not and she doesn’t care about the process so much as the result.

Her contact rate is rising! The BABIP will follow!

Her contact rate is rising! The BABIP will follow!

3. So the last isn’t so much an Easter tradition as it is a Higa tradition. Because of a lack of tape and overall desire to make tape balls, Matty and I took the easy way out. We found our dad’s stash of plastic balls on the top shelf of the storage room. “Ha ha, we found your secret stash,” I said to my dad. “It’s not like I was hiding it, it says Easton right on the side of it,” he said. Matty called me an idiot, but he does that so often, I feel like it doesn’t carry a whole lot of weight. Anyway, the random arrangement of cars in the driveway made it impossible for us to play the way we usually do. We flipped things around and hit out of the driveway across the street (it has been foreclosed). Madison’s actually been getting better with hitting, but she’s a train wreck on fire on defense. As a baseball coach and baseball lifer, I feel qualified to describe Madison’s defensive technique as get-out-of-the-way-of-the-ball-and-pick-it-up-when-it-stops-moving. The whole thing is a work in process, but at least she’s eager to play. There’s something amusing about Madison running out of the house shouting “Who wants to play baseball?” while Matty and I are holding plates of food. He and I make eye contact that seems to say “not us,” but we always get up anyway. I mean, you kind of have to.


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