I love that my Jewish husband has no problem celebrating Passover Saturday night, then joining our Christian friends for an Easter Egg hunt the next morning.
Since I didn’t grow up in the Jewish faith, I think it would be upsetting to have my kids miss out on the fun things Christians get to do. Like egg hunts.
This was our third year organizing the Easter Egg hunt. This year we expanded the amount of families. And the amount of toys. There was still plenty of eggs to find. And all the toys: croquet, T-ball, soccer, kites, bubbles, and more were all put to good use.
In the three years we organized the hunt, I was pregnant twice. But this time, birth is much more eminent. And I’m as big as a house. Adam insisted on bringing lawn chairs for me instead of trying to find a comfortable position on the blanket. I sat in lawn chair the entire time, except when I got up to find the port-a-potty. Everyone pitched in to help with our kids. If Adam was covering Jack and Ben ran off, another adult quickly brought him back. No one let me carry anything. I was very grateful for the help.
I told my father about our plans for the day and he reminisced about taking my sister and I to Easter Egg hunts when we were kids. He said they would line the kids up by age group. When it was my sister’s group they shot the gun to start the hunt (Yes, they shot a gun. It’s Florida, people.) and my sister took off running. When my turn came, they shot the gun and everyone started running except for me. I stood at the starting line looking up at the sky, day dreaming. I don’t think Jack and Ben inherited any of my lackadaisical disposition, thank goodness!