As it turns out, LOTS of people like to color eggs on Easter, and they all bought eggs and white vinegar before we did. Still, I was a little surprised when Brendan called from Kroger and announced that there were no eggs to be found. Anywhere. In the city. At all.
After I'd promised the 8-year old a night of egg coloring fun to take the sting out of the 11-year old's absence (she's with her mom and family in Michigan for Easter. Joint custody can be amiable, but that doesn't make it fun.)
Oops.
We had 6 eggs in the fridge, but plans for Mom's Morning Strata, so we strategically bought some Egg Beaters and explained patiently that really, you only need to color about 6 eggs to have a good time.
It worked. She had a blast.
This morning, as I reached into the fridge to grab the Egg Beaters we bought last night, my arm brushed up against a styrofoam carton. A complete dozen eggs.
"Did you know these were in there?"
"They couldn't have been there yesterday. I would have noticed. I wouldn't have run around town looking for eggs if they'd been there."
An Easter Miracle, indeed.
2 comments:
I think my mom pulled that one on me when I was six! To know the truth now, is absolutely heartbreaking...next you'll tell me that Daisy didn't really go to the farm to live with the lonely couple.
Your blogs are witty and interesting, I just read through them all. Love it :)
aunt lizzy thinks the eggs look great! :D
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