Here, for your viewing pleasure, are some pictures of our little Easter egg hunt. On Easter Sunday, in the early evening, we took our children out to the back yard and hid some plastic eggs.
You’re getting colder, Son. I think you’re going to have to look up.
Yes, right up there!
That Daddy is so tricky! And, yes, we know it had to be Daddy because Short-Momma could barely reach up that high!
This child is disgusted that her 4 year old brother is finding more eggs than she is. But doesn’t she look cool in those gigantic sunglasses?
Still not impressed by the lack of eggs in her basket. And, besides, she is far too cool to be hunting eggs. I mean, look at those glasses! Epitome of cool.
Hey, good job finding the ones Daddy hid up high!
First, he climbed up to get an egg. Then he decided he liked it better in the tree.
So, he hung around.
And then he hung around some more.
And I’m pretty sure he shouldn’t have landed there! Oops. Ummm . . . maybe the groundskeeper will think a giant lizard made that huge dent in the bushes. Or maybe he’ll think it was a frisbee or a suicidal, dive-bombing seagull.
Oh, yeah, and are you OK, Son?
That’s what I thought. You’re fine. A little fall into the bushes can’t hurt the boy who used to free-fall, face-first off the back of our sofa.