I’ve eaten a lot of food over the past two days. Right now, as I write this, I feel extreme discomfort because an hour ago was all I’m probably not going to eat dinner tonight then 30 minutes ago I went to But I’m going to eat a huge plate of adobo anyway. When Ed Sheeran says “I’ll just keep on making the same mistakes,” I know how he feels. In fact, Ed could absolutely be singing to and about food in that song and it would still make total sense.
Since we’re talking about traditions, I really have to thank my family for a great Easter lunch and afternoon. It initially looked like only a smaller group of my family would get together, but by the afternoon (and the third course of dessert), nearly everyone was able to stop by. It was super cool; cars pulling up, everyone getting excited, and then another pie or cake or ice cream float being pulled out of the kitchen.
My mom put together a scavenger hunt for Madison, though I wouldn’t use the word “hunt”. You see, hunt implies difficulty, requires skill, and makes no promises of capture. That’s not what my mom’s Easter Egg Hunts are. Either my mom thinks Madison is 3 or she doesn’t want to hurt Mad’s self-esteem. Maybe it’s both. My mom basically places the eggs out in plain sight, offering Madison a challenge on maybe 3 of the 25 eggs. Maybe next year will be different. But I doubt it.
Paul also continued his tradition of cutting Madison an apron out of a trash bag. For reasons I don’t understand, Madison loves this. Lynnette and my mom bought the exact same egg dye kit, further cementing their status as kindred spirits who destroy my spirits. Sigh.
As always, my first egg was dedicated to my beloved New York Mets who will open the season against Washington Nationals, early favorites to win the World Series. “What color is Madison’s Mets shirt?” Lynnette called out from Mad’s bedroom. “Blue and gray,” I shouted. Five minutes later, she emerged from Mad’s room. “I can’t find it,” she said. I shot up from the couch. Madison and I rifled through her drawers with no luck. A few minutes later, I found the shirt on the recliner in her bedroom. She’s wearing it to school tomorrow. When I pick her up in the afternoon in my own Mets gear, they will understand why. I CAN’T WANT FOR YOU TO SEE IT.
Lynnette and I spent the rest of the time decorating Pokemon eggs. She’s only a few more drawings of Oshawott away from qualifying for a bachelor’s degree in the field. She’s really good at them. My own artistic limitations pushed me toward a cheap, lazy representation of Pikachu which has since become a key component of Lynnette’s egg salad.