Six days after Easter and two days after the storms, I found an Easter egg in the yard. It wasn’t one of the four boiled eggs that were not found. Wild animals probably found those. Wild animals is not a euphemism for my children either. No, I found a small yellow plastic egg with candy inside. The candy was a foil wrapped Peepster. Peepsters are chocolate coated Peeps. Not entire marshmallow chicks or bunnies, but small bits of Peeps. Peep giblets dipped in chocolate and wrapped in foil that spent almost a week outside.
As I stared at it bemusingly, Noah asked me if I would be eating it. I delicately said, “Ew. Absolutely not.” Okay, maybe not so delicate, but Noah scooped it up and walked in the house with uncharacteristically swift speed. He turned down the hall as if he was heading to his room, but marched further into his little brother’s room.
“Ouch! Why did you hit me with an egg?”
“It still has candy in it.”
“Can I eat it?”