Ah, Easter. Each year, when Easter comes along, I get so excited that I can … hardly stop yawning.
Listen, spring is a nice concept in theory, but in practice? In practice, it’s cold and wet and muddy and let’s just fast forward to summer, shall we?
But tonight was the obligatory painting of the eggs, and the kids were excited, and I needed a photo of the day, and so here we are.
A few observations:
- That colorless-wax crayon they give you to draw on your egg a design that will remain untouched by the colorful Easter-egg dye? Flawed. Firstly, it doesn’t work that well to begin with, and secondly, have you tried to draw on a white egg with a colorless crayon? Because I have, and you know what? You can’t see what you’re drawing … which would make for a less-than-impressive final result even if the wax successfully fended off the dye (which, let me just reiterate, it doesn’t).
- The egg-dying kit? Not impressed. Very poor quality craftsmanship. The materials, the packaging—the overall egg-dying experience. I asked Wonder Woman if there was a top-of-the-line, Four Seasons-type egg-dying kit on the market, but she wasn’t aware of one. But wait: I’m suddenly having a vision from my youth as I’m writing this. Something about a
rotisserie kind of a thing lathe (check out the big brain on Dave, who offered up “lathe” in the comments below) that holds the egg and decorates the shell via a clamp-mounted magic marker that moves down the length of the egg as you twirl it … hmmm … is that ringing a bell for anyone?
- Speaking of magic markers: wow, I wish I had thought of using magic markers to decorate the eggs. I’m pretty sure that would have held the kids’ interest much longer than the dipping-and-painting session. Plus, also, using markers presumably would have circumvented the post-egg-decorating moment when Zan started freaking out because the dye had stained his fingers and he wasn’t able to remove every last molecule of ink from his skin. (I believe Wonder Woman eventually succeeded by scrubbing it off with a toothbrush and some toothpaste … because, you know, you’ll do pretty much anything to stave off a potentially horrific end-of-the-day meltdown … which he hasn’t had in a while—and thank god, because the one he had tonight reminded me of the ones he used to have all the time, except that those ones were even worse, and did I mention that I’m curled up in the fetal position underneath my desk right now?)
So, anyway, we’re hosting my family on Easter Sunday. And, no, seriously: did I mention that I’m curled up in the fetal position underneath my desk right now?