With less than one week until Easter, Haddie is still not ready. For The Easter Egg Hunt, that is. Twice she has hunted this week. Twice she has failed. Really, how difficult could it be? I hold the basket while she shovels in free food. She sure didn’t have any difficulties figuring out the Halloween begging ritual. So what’s the deal with little plastic eggs?
Plenty. Unfortunately for us, they resemble balls. In addition to pretties and makeup, Hadley is obsessed with balls. It doesn’t matter where we go or what we do. We can spend a fortune on an activity and if there is a ball present, all she does is rave about it. In the car, she likes to practice her sports savy by reciting the different techniques: “Soccer–KICK! Basketball–THROW!!” It’s like she’s feverishly cramming for a final exam and if she flunks she won’t get into ESPN heaven.
Fast-forward to her friend Ella’s Easter Party on Thursday. I figured she would be the cream of the crop because most of the kids in our playgroup are barely walking (and the other ones she can knock over with a swift elbow to their untoned Ethiopian belly.) I set her loose like a little race horse at the track. She started swiftly, strongly by grabbing everything in her wake. But then came the unanticipated obstacle: she launched the eggs and squealed “THROW! HIGH!” And down came the rain of candy as they splattered all over the place. She grabbed a few morsels and would race off to her next “ball” before I could contain her. At least she was fast.
Saturday’s community egg hunt wasn’t much better but I had hope because competition-obsessed Jamie was there to help. He carried her to the start of the hunt, all the while massaging her “Hammies” to ensure her legs were in superior working order. He then instructed her on the fine art of grabbing and [if necessary] stealing. Gotta prepare her for the harsh realities of life, he reasoned.
The hunt was strategically located in a playground…the perfect locale for any kid who lacked focus and drive. Haddie was one of those kids. “Slide! Swing! Swim!” she kept longingly pointing out. “FOCUS!” we kept drilling into her but you’d think she was almost 2 or something–all she wanted to do was play. She was up on the slide when the hunt commenced, typical of someone lacking in commitment. Jamie grabbed her and threw her into the competition. She didn’t even start strong on this one. She had tried to grab a few eggs before the start but when it came time, she just froze like a bunny in headlights. When she finally got her nerve up, she bent over and rocketed an egg across the field of play as the other kids flocked around.
Desperately, I started shoveling eggs towards her. “Pick them up!” I screamed. We were losing. But she didn’t care. Within minutes, all the “pretty balls” were gone. And all we had to show for the hunt were a few eggs filled with crappy Tootsie Rolls and Smarties; the least they could have done was award our efforts with chocolate. And eggs that looked a lot less like balls.
Not that Hadley complained. In fact, she even requested they have basketball hoops next year to increase the level of difficulty.
I'm a Canadian-born mom of two, former Denver Post columnist, family travel writer, editor of MileHighMamas.com and 9News contributor. Expert on all things Utah, Denver, family and travel. Lover of laughter and life. Happily married to a man obsessed with growing The Great Pumpkin. 