It’s become a tradition in our household on Easter morning. Daniel gets up early and wakes us out of a sound sleep. Meka and I stumble down the stairs to watch Daniel hunt for Easter eggs around the house. With one child, an open house plan, and maybe a dozen eggs, you’d think this wouldn’t be too big of a deal. However, Meka and I can be sneaky when we want to be and Daniel – smart as he is – has a blind spot when it comes to brightly colored plastic eggs.
Generally, our hiding places come in three skill levels. We have the absurdly obvious places. We might set an Easter egg on the middle of the kitchen table and cover it with a napkin. Or set it on the floor and put an empty can over it. One year, I covered an egg with a note that said THERE’S NO EGG UNDER HERE. Then we have the regular hiding places. We put one in the couch cushions in the family room. We hide them on the window sills behind the curtains in the living room. Finally, we have a couple “make you think” hiding places. Meka is tall enough that she can place an egg on the wooden frame covering the curtain rod over the sliding glass door in the kitchen. The sneakiest place I ever hid an Easter egg was in the refrigerator; one plastic egg sitting among its organic brethren in the carton.
We haven’t rearranged the downstairs furniture in a long time. Most of the hiding places haven’t changed much over the years. Still, Daniel has to rise to the challenge as he sneaks around from room to room with his basket in hand, apparently expecting the eggs to jump out at him and say “Boo!”. The challenge for Meka and me is not to give the eggs away after he’s walked past them half a dozen times. We can’t eat jellybeans for breakfast until he’s found them all.