A humble confession
I walk past the table and it stares back at me. It has been sitting on the table for a few weeks since I first brought it home. The colors and animated characters on the cover promise a good time filled with giggles and joy – leaving behind nothing but happy memories of a special moment in time.
I try to ignore it. I pretend I don’t see it. I walk past it and look the other way. And I almost succeed in blocking it out of my mind – that is, until I open the refrigerator.
There they are. Sitting there. Waiting. Waiting for something to happen. Waiting for a change of scenery – perhaps a dip in the hot tub or adding a bit of color. But, alas, there they sit with unfulfilled potential.
I pretend that all is okay. That I have done all I can to ensure my children have experienced the best of each and every day. I try to pretend. But deep down I know that I am a fraud.
A FRAUD, I SAY!
You see, my kids didn’t dye Easter eggs this year. I admit it. I am a cheapened shell of the father I set out to be. I cannot help but admit that I succumbed to the allure of plastic, pastel-colored eggs. There will be do photos of my kids drinking dye. There will be no fond memories of writing our names on eggs with the “Magic” crayon. And, perhaps most important, there will be no egg salad sandwiches.
I humbly admit this to you, my fellow parents, to repent and beg for your forgiveness. I have shamed all that is good about being a parent.
I’ll make it up to you. I promise to get sparklers for them on the Fourth of July. A few singed fingers will be a small price to pay to redeem myself in the eyes of my parenting bretheren.
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We didn’t dye eggs this year either. The dollar store had plastic eggs shaped like giant jelly beans and carrots. Plus, they never can seem to get the hang of using the wire dipper, so by the time all the eggs are dipped, my kids look like they have gone to the middle east and voted multiple times.
Comment by Lissa — April 12, 2007 @ 4:40 am
Memories. It’s all about the memories. Your children have been deprived of memories! Or maybe not. To what age can you remember back to? My oldest memory is to age 3, and there are only 2 things I remember. I think you’re off the
hook for this Easter.
Comment by Aunt Raina — April 12, 2007 @ 9:27 am
You know, you can still dye the eggs, hide them and make egg salad sandwiches. Fortunately, they are too young to know that Easter has passed. They will just have a good time playing with the dye and eating egg salad sandwiches. Do this and you will be absolved, my son.
Comment by Grandmother — April 12, 2007 @ 11:08 am
I like Grandmother’s idea. Do it this weekend. Who’s to say you can’t have tax day eggs?
Comment by Darren a/k/a Clare's Dad — April 12, 2007 @ 1:19 pm
I never dyed eggs growing up either and I turned out okay. Well, except for that time in the clink for. . .oh never mind. I’m sure the twins will be fine!
Comment by samantha jo campen — April 12, 2007 @ 4:36 pm
You know, we forgot real eggs, too. LA Mommy bought her the plastic ones at the last minute – which my daughter hid and made us look for.
But we’ll get it right next year. Right?
Comin’ to the party?
Comment by L.A. Daddy — April 12, 2007 @ 10:06 pm
We didn’t dye eggs either. In fact, I didn’t even bother with planning my own Easter egg hunt because our church was doing a big one. Ane’s probably old enough to dye eggs, but Tad would probably try to drink the dye. I’m going to wait until he outgrows his pica problems, so check back with me in a few years.
Comment by Deanna — April 13, 2007 @ 9:40 am
Well, don’t be surprised if they take up crack now. You blew it. Nice.
Comment by Jen M. — April 13, 2007 @ 2:17 pm