Kill the Wabbit

Easter for the disorganized:

So I put off shopping for Easter dinner because of the school holidays.  Who wants to drag two kids through the grocery store unnecessarily? 

Well, apparently I do.  So casual was my attitude toward preparations that I waited until Saturday afternoon to go to the supermarket.  

In the rain.  

With both kids.  

The day before Easter. 

Remember that scene in War of the Worlds when everyone was trying to get on the boat and the angry mob took Tom Cruise’s minivan?

It was kinda like that.

After dinner, it was time to decorate eggs.  I always like to do this about an hour before bedtime, otherwise it turns into a reexamination of each egg in order to add “just one more thing.”

I forgot to cook the eggs.

So needless to say, the kids were psyched that they got to stay up late (by about two hours,) while I tried to figure out how I was going to “flash refrigerate” the eggs so they wouldn’t have to decorate hot little spheres of pain.

Eggs done miraculously with no egg dye being spilled all over the table (this time.)  Put my little zombies to bed - maybe they’ll sleep late!

I sent Derek down to the cellar to get the kids baskets which I had purchased weeks before like an organized and well-planned person.  They were beach-themed: big colorful buckets with things like swim rings, goggles and monogrammed beach towels.  

They were also missing. 

We whisper-argued for a little while before I told him to find those Goddamn buckets or drive down to the 24-hour Walgreen’s for replacement baskets.

After lots of banging around in the basement, he found the buckets.  I am afraid to go down there now.  We arranged them just so, then I added the chocolate bunnies I had stashed.  He hid the eggs and went upstairs to pass out.

About five hours later (WTF?!) the kids woke us up to go downstairs.  We dragged ourselves to the living room while they hunted for eggs.  Success!  They found them all in no time.

All but one.

They looked around again, but still no egg.  Derek tried to re-trace his steps, because really, they were mostly hidden in plain sight.  But he was so blind from exhaustion when he hid them, he couldn’t remember them all.

After mainlining several cups of coffee, I started dinner.  As I was putting together my special sweet potato souffle, I realized that, ironically, we were out of eggs.  Off to find an open grocery store on Easter Sunday.

Dinner turned out lovely, and it was a beautiful spring day.  We never did find that last egg, but I think I have a feeling where it went:

Ozzy looooves eggs!

At least I'm keeping my fingers crossed...