Easter Overload Part 1

When I say "Easter Over Load" I am not complaining one single bit. I named this post based strictly on the insane number of photos included!! We had an eventful Easter weekend and I wanted to share every frilly little detail, of course! (I am a bit embarrassed I just stooped to that level of cheesiness. Oh well.)

So let's get started with the Easter festivities...

We kicked off the fun on Thursday by doing some serious egg coloring with Blythe and Zoe! Growing up, decorating eggs was a really big deal at our house. Zac and I spent hours drawing designs, dipping them in the color and decorating with glitter and stickers. (Zac didn't really partake in the glittering... His eggs usually ended up looking a lot like basketballs, shocking.) We continued our egg decorating tradition up until about a year or two ago... Apparently it's like a rule that once you are both in college and/or married, you don't get to color Easter eggs anymore. Who knew?!

So, I did what any smart person who is too old for Easter egg decorating would do... I invited Blythe and Zoe over for an egg extravaganza! What an interesting night it was - not exactly the experience I expected. It started off with, Miss Zoe (who is 3) asking where the eggs came from. I want to be the "cool aunt" but I'm not that cool. My parents still haven't had that talk so in my head, I panic - "Please direct all questions concerning reproduction to your parents." For some reason that didn't satisfy her... "Why?" she said in her little whiny voice. 

Big sister Blythe quickly informs me that we shouldn't tell her because it'll make her sad. Huh? What's sad about an egg coming from a chicken? Now I'm the one wondering why. I quickly and simply tell Zoe that eggs come from chickens, easy enough, conversation over... Then Blythe drops the bomb, "There are baby chickens in the eggs but they are dead." Ooooh, so that's why Zoe would be sad. This prompted many questions such as why would we eat dead baby chickens and who killed all the baby chickens (I started saying that nobody killed the baby chickens because they weren't chickens yet, they were just eggs... but that doesn't make a whole lot of sense if I believe that babies are babies the minute an egg and sperm meet... I'm pretty sure BK was reading my spinning mind from across the room because he instantly perked up and said, "Babe, keep it simple, I really don't want to have to explain to their parents why we laid out the different beliefs on a-b-o-r-t-i-o-n to their three year old." Good call husband, good call. I'm so glad I've got him for back up.)

Somehow we ended up diverting the conversation back into normal three year talk, chickens lay eggs and then they sit on them and keep them really warm and protected and finally a baby chicken breaks out of the egg when it's ready to be born... what I didn't consider was the fact that I had just handed the poor kid an egg that had cracked while boiling. "This one is still alive!! My chicken is being born!!" Oh geeze. I've got a LOTTTTT to learn, glad my sweet nieces let me practice on them.

Even though we weren't super successful on the egg Q&A, we did dye, shine and glitter two dozen extra large eggs... The girls had so much fun, almost as much fun as I did! Brandon on the other hand was somehow designated "glitter slave." It's not as glamorous as it sounds... Poor man was covered in sparkles by the time it was over! He's going to be a very good dad someday (but not for a few more years - don't get any crazy ideas).

When I told the girls it was time to start boxing all their eggs up Blythe showed me her "best one." She said she made it just for me. 

"I love you" 

Those precious girls can cover my house in glitter, spill egg dye all over everything and terrify my dog any time they want... They both have my heart. 

Be Blessed!

Raegan