Happy Easter, everyone!
When we were kids, the Easter Bunny didn't hide our baskets in the traditional way. Instead, she left notes for each of us, with corny little poems giving us clues to the hiding place. Naturally, that hiding place only had another note, sending us on a treasure hunt of three or four spots until we found our baskets.
The best part was that we each had our own trail of clues, including my dad. My sisters and I would run around the house, yelling and trying to figure out what the heck that stupid clue meant; sometimes, when the clue turned out to be a little too vague, my mom would discreetly step in and say, "Hmmm, gee, I wonder if the Easter Bunny meant to suggest...the dryer?" Hee.
And my dad would pretend he was too cool to engage, but he found his basket all the same. Nothing would keep my dad from his chocolate, but he had to tease us all too. So he would read the clue, then the newspaper while he sipped his coffee. Eventually -- stretching it out just enough to torture us -- he would get up and go get his next clue, then sit back down with his coffee to torture us some more.
It was a really great tradition, one that has stayed in my memories all my life.
Thank you, Mom.
I mean, thank you, Easter Bunny. :)
