Last year, Mark and I spent an awesome Easter in mecca for chocolate bunnies--Hershey, Pennsylvania! This year, we played it a little more low-key, and went to the family homestead in San Diego.
It was a quick trip, but we packed in lots of fun. Well, most of it was fun. The five stores I spent three hours in searching for Mark's new shoes were not so fun. (Seriously...the girls picked out more clothes AND shoes than my little fashionista managed.)
On Sunday morning, the kids woke up early and started digging in to their Easter baskets. They got enough sugar to choke a horse, or send a diabetic kid into insulin shock. (Luckily, that didn't really happen.)
Mark was excited to open his basket. I was excited, because he got an ENORMOUS plastic Easter egg that took up most of the room in his basket.
"What was in the egg?" I asked.
"Nothing!" Grant screamed. "It was empty!"
And...dang it! The egg had come with a label showing candy and toys nested inside a couple other eggs. Apparently, the Easter Bunny didn't bother to verify that was the case.
"It's okay," Mark told me. "I just put all my candy in there. It's locked up like a safe!"
"Wow," I said. "The Easter Bunny should fire his elves. Slackers."
"The Easter Bunny doesn't have elves," Grant told me. "That's Santa."
"Well, maybe he should get some then, huh?" I winked at Grant and walked away.
After a big breakfast, we dressed in our Sunday best and made our bi-annual trip to church. (It makes my mom happy.) The cool thing about Easter is we usually score seats in the main church instead of the bingo hall, where we spend our Christmas Eves. I think it's because all during our childhood, Mass started at 10:30, so we're conditioned to leave the house by 10:20. But the joke's on us--nowadays, Mass starts at 11.
The flowers all over the church were gorgeous. SO were all the cute little girls in their giant Easter dresses, and all the sweet little boys with their hair slicked down. The priest gave an okay speech--you can tell he's a faithful man, but he's not the most inspiring. And it didn't help that he delivered his sermon in a thick Indian accent. That would have been fine, if Nathalie hadn't leaned over to me halfway through the service and whispered, "Richard Parker," in an equally thick accent. (I hated the movie Life of Pi, but the whole "Richard Parker" thing stuck.) I about lost it, and we spent the rest of the service talking about Richard Parker.
It was back home for another big meal. My mom went a little crazy, but the meal was fantastic--turkey, ham, asparagus, potatoes, pineapple, you name it, we ate it. Then we topped it all off with a cake Mary and Gabi made that was topped with candy. Seriously, I could feel my blood sugar rising just walking through the house!
We spent a little more time just visiting with the family and enjoying the holiday. It was so fun and happy that we hated to end the good times, but we still had a two-hour drive ahead of us.
But I made Mark gather up all the giant eggs before we left.
"Just in case," I told him. "Maybe the Easter Bunny will actually fill them up next year."
Here's hoping...
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