Hippity, hoppity, Easter’s on it’s waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!

In seven short hours the kids will be waking up to find their baskets.  Due to the fact that the EB is particularly crazy and mean in this house, their baskets will be filled with things like toothbrushes and band-aids (What?  They have Spider-Man on them!)  After that it’s off to Grandma’s to look for eggs.  Hmm?  You are wondering why the EB would hide OUR eggs at Grandma’s house?  It seems that, in Violet’s mind, eggs are hidden outside.  We have no yard.  This prompted a very nervous conversation about two weeks ago, where she asked me WHERE would we do our hunt?  Would we even GET to hunt eggs?  Or would we just NOT GET ANY?  And WHYYYY don’t we have a yard?!  We NEED a yard for the Easter Bunny to HIDE THE EGGS IN!

I suggested that maybe he would just hide them around the house.  She voiced concern that “In this messy house we would NEVER FIND THEM!”  (Funny aside – last week at a birthday party V felt the need to tell all the guests that our bathroom is so messy “This morning I couldn’t even find my toothbrush!”  Ooh hoo hoo!  Ha ha haaa!  Ooh, she’s soooooo funny and cute!  Grrrrr.)

So the genius had the idea to leave a note for EB, asking him to hide the eggs in Grandma’s yard.  Eggs and jellybeans were purchased, and Grandpa Vic manfully stepped up and ate all the black ones, so as not to scar the children for life.  Don’t want them having nightmares about egg hunts from now on.  (“No! Noooooooo!  Not the eggs with the BLACK jellybeans inside!  AAAAUUUUGH!” )

 

Completely not-Easter-related:  I have this pic on my phone that I feel the need to share -

Would you look at those poor, bruised shins?  What is she doing?

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Now, I need to start by saying that I really, really like Melissa’s ballet flats here.  Looking at this pic makes me think it’s time to upgrade my old, cheap, scuffed up pair.   I like the little square toe, I like the gathers, I like them.  But.  Seriously?  Where the hell are my Ariel socks and pink sparkly Keds?  What happens to girls when we grow up that we feel the need to switch to black ballet flats?  V would not be caught dead in plain black flats – where is that sense of fun in my wardrobe?  Hmmm.

Ooh!  Speaking of my wardrobe, (man, this post is all over the place.  That’s what I get for waiting till 1130 and then just sitting down to brain dump.  Enjoy the ride, folks) today I hung out with a woman who I have met exactly once before.  Last time I was wearing a navy v-neck tshirt and jeans and wedges.  Today I was wearing a navy and white tank, denim skirt, and flats.

She was showing me some wedding photos and telling me it was her mother’s dress. I told her that my mother’s dress was something she made herself, in the early 70’s.  It was a mini, and after the wedding she dyed it green to wear again.  Sometime in high school I dyed it pink to wear to a dance (Fine, fine.  It was band banquet.  Yes, I’m a dork.  Moving along….)  and by the time I got married it wasn’t exactly an option.

She listens to this and says “Huh.  I’ll bet it’s from her that you get your eclectic style.”  and I seriously cannot get that line out of my head.  Really?  Navy and denim?  I mean, I have some pretty wacky clothes in my closet, but I’ve been on my best-dressed behavior both times I’ve met her.  Totally grown-up, respectable outfits.  Eclectic.  Next time I see her, I’m totally wearing a hippie shirt over another tank over a long skirt with tons of beads and the Princess Leia hairstyle.  I have a rep to live up to.

Yeah, I don’t know how to end this.  I’m going to take my eclectic self out to the living room and steal a Reese’s.  Happy Easter, peeps. (Get it?  Peeps?  Heheheheeeee.) (Yeah.  It’s past my bedtime.)